The Name in Red
by Raug
Summary: The trio are attending their seventh year at Hogwarts after the defeat of Voldemort. On a stormy night in fall, Snape discovers a stranger on the steps of the castle. A mystery unfolds. Post DH. Slightly AU/AR, Snape/OFC, Mystery, Violence, Novel Length
1. Lost

Hello everyone. I am Raug, and this is my story, The Name in Red. It was originally published on a site that allows explicit sex, so I decided to crop a censored version in the hopes of gaining a wider audience and having more people read and enjoy my story. (Don't worry, there is still plenty of romance and pretty steamy stuff!) According my word counts versus the official word counts for canon books, the finalized original version of the story is longer than any book in canon. Its original publication received overwhelmingly positive feedback, and I am hoping for the same reception here. I began working on a sequel to this story earlier this year, but I am having difficulty motivating myself to work on it, as I now know what a daunting undertaking writing a high-quality story like this is. The Name in Red took me nearly two years to complete. Hopefully, if I receive some more fans and some more feedback, I might be more motivated to work on it. I believe everything in this story to be canonically plausible (for example, I offer a plausible explanation for Snape's survival), but I obviously had to take some creative liberties with certain things in order to craft my story. For lack of a better term, we will call it DH compliant with canonically plausible creative liberties. Nothing 'magically' happens with no highly plausible explanation.

Thank you for bearing with me while I worked out the kinks and got used to this site's format for uploading documents and publishing stories/chapters. The story in its entirety is now published correctly, with all thirty chapters.

Please read and review if you would be so kind. I proudly present: The Name in Red! =) I sincerely hope you enjoy it!

Edit 10/26/2010: Wow, tons of hits, but barely any reviews or feedback... maybe I should have posted the chapters serially to create suspense and get reactions out of people instead of just posting the completed story all at once -.-; Oh well...

Edit 10/27/2010: I've had a couple people asking me for a link to the uncensored version. I cannot easily post a link on this site, however, not even in a private message, because this site has a policy of only displaying links to their own site in order to prevent spam. I'm not sure if messages would even display e-mail addresses, either. If you would like a link to the original, uncensored version of The Name in Red, please pull my e-mail address from my profile by clicking on my name, clicking on e-mail, and completing the captcha in order to see it. Then, send me an e-mail requesting a link to the original, uncensored version of the story, and I'll be happy to send it to you! **NOTE:** The sex scenes of the original, uncensored version are fairly pornographic, which is why I could not post an uncensored version of the story here, as this site's guidelines clearly state no explicit sexuality. I just wanted to state this so that, if you feel inclined to ask for a link to the uncensored version, you know what you are getting yourself into!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 1: Lost.

* * *

She was lost. Completely, utterly, and inescapably lost. What's more, she knew it. She walked onward and onward, all the while cursing herself inwardly for having wandered so far away from her campsite. It had been just before dark. Her friends had gone off a distance in pursuit of firewood, and some strange feeling had instilled within her the urgent desire to go for a walk. As she went, the sun had set on her rather quickly. Before she knew it, she had wandered quite far from her encampment and darkness had fallen. Trying to gain her bearings and pointing herself in the direction she believed her friends to be, she began to walk. It had seemed like a logical enough plan, until several hours later when she was still walking to god knows where, completely alone and lost.

"I didn't even tell them I was leaving," she scowled at herself. "They're going to think I was dragged off by wolves or something. Idiot." She cursed herself again, kicking at the ground as she walked, her hiking boot sending a couple stones and a twig or two flying a short distance in front of her in the darkness.

Her feet were beginning to tire. She had been walking along for hours now. A couple hours back she had debated with herself over wether or not to remain in one place and hope she was found, or attempt to find her way back to some form of civilization and risk getting herself even more lost in the process. Being greatly angry and frustrated with herself, the latter decision had won out, and had indeed managed to get her very, very lost. She had long since decided that calling out for help as she went along was pointless, so she continued to walk along in silence. All but for the intermittent cursing-herself-out-loud, of course.

To top it all off, she was now beginning to grow very hungry and very thirsty, and had not brought anything with her. She did not fancy the idea of sleeping all alone on the ground in some strange forest. She was determined to get herself found or rescued. She was determined to get herself somewhere; where that somewhere was, however, she had yet to find out. Until then, she wasn't going to stop for as long as she could help it.

She sighed deeply. Upon breathing in, she noticed that the scent of the forest had gotten thicker and stronger. Looking up and about, from what little she could discern in the darkness, she could tell that the trees had grown taller and thicker. Skimming her hand idly over the trunk of a tree as she walked past it, she grimaced as her fingertips came into contact with thick, dewy moss. She quickly wiped it on the side of her long jacket. The woods she had wandered her way into had grown progressively older and more dense. The darkness, combined with the stifling silence of the forest around her, seemed to bear down on her like some invisible, oppressive force. Regardless, she trudged on.

There came a brilliantly bright light. For a fraction of a second, the entire forest around her was illuminated. As quickly as the light had come, the forest once again submerged into deep darkness. With a sharp intake of breath, she glanced frantically about, trying to discover the source of this new light which had come and gone so quickly. Had it been a flash light? A search light? Had someone finally found her? Optimistic possibilities raced through her thoughts. Seconds later, the loud rumble of thunder high overhead removed all mystery, and all optimism. The thunder, and the beginnings of raindrops that began to make their way down to the forest floor, had replaced them with misery and dread.

Continuing her march, she attempted to stay close to the large tree trunks, seeking the shelter of their leaves from the increasingly heavy rain. There were a few more flashes of lightening, and a few more cracks of thunder. The forest was under a deluge now. Even the slight shelter of the forest canopy was not enough to prevent her long hair from becoming a wet and heavy weight on her head, and her clothes becoming mostly soaked. Her jacket began to feel as if it weighed at least twenty pounds. In a fit of rage, she tore it off and threw it blindly into the night as she continued to walk. This came to be yet another decision that she would rue, when not fifteen minutes later, she began to shiver in the cold rain, clad only in her t-shirt and jeans.

She was weary now. Drenched, hungry, and freezing. She could feel the warm flow of her tears against her cold cheeks. She was just about to sink to her knees and howl defeat when she heard what sounded like a heavy footfall on the wet forest floor behind her.

Startled, she wheeled about, her eyes darting through the darkness. Terror seeped into her, as cold as the freezing rain on her face, as she began to hear more and more of these heavy footfalls in front of and around her. She knew she was not alone. Even though she was unable to see anything in the darkness, she somehow knew that dozens of watchful eyes were now looking at her. She began to shiver from more than just the cold.

"Who is it?" she shouted out into the darkness. "Who's there?" She began to very slowly back away from the source of the footfalls.

Another brilliant flash of lightening revealed the onlookers to her. A loud rumble of thunder in the following darkness drowned out her frightened yell, her eyes wide with fear. Large, immensely tall creatures with the bodies of horses joined to the torsos of men. Centaurs.

She was paralyzed with fear and stood rooted to the spot. Her heart raced. She had just quite clearly seen a bunch of creatures who were not supposed to be real. She silently prayed to whatever god was listening that hunger, exhaustion, and cold had driven her into strange hallucinations. This wild hope was crushed when she heard a deep voice emitting from the darkness several yards in front of her, quite clear, and quite real.

"This one is not supposed to be here," the deep voice issued.

"The star that shone too brightly and therefore must be veiled, like _His_ should have been, had they only heeded our warnings," another voice spoke, higher than the first. There were several grunts of agreement.

"This one _has_ been veiled," a different, gruff voice spoke.

"Then what is she doing _here_, so close to the place they have kept her from," the first voice spoke again.

"She must not reach it. Stop her," the gruff voice spoke again.

She was snapped back into reality by another bright flash of lightening; the monsters were advancing on her. She immediately turned and began to run as fast as she could, the wet earth gripping at her boots and her drenched clothing weighing her down. All around her she could hear terrifying thunder; not from the storm above, but from hooves.

Branches and brambles slashed out at her as she ran, dodging between trees and trying to escape these nightmare monsters that she must have imagined. Fear and adrenaline caused her not to feel the stinging cuts and scrapes she was sustaining during her frenzied flight. All weariness and hunger were forgotten. She ran as fast as she could, her lungs burning. She did not even notice that in her fear and panic, she had somehow summoned the speed to stay ahead of her swift, four-legged pursuers.

To her surprise, the forest around her seemed to be rapidly thinning. With a glance ahead, luckily illuminated by another flash of lightening, she could see what she thought must be the edge of these woods, where the trees cleared into open ground. With a rush of hope, she charged onward. She thought that if maybe she could escape this horrible forest, she could escape these imaginary monsters.

This hope was quickly driven from her by an sudden intense, searing pain in her right shoulder. She yelled out in agony. Her pain, combined with the force of whatever had struck her, caused her to jerk forward and trip. She was airborne for a second or two before hitting the forest floor hard. Her staggering impact slightly cushioned by the wet soil giving way under her, she tumbled for a few seconds before coming to a stop, face-down.

Her ears were ringing now. She could hear nothing but her own labored breathing and the thunderous beat of her heart reverberating in her ears. She could feel nothing but terror and the terrible pain in her shoulder. The area that the pain emanated from was growing warm with what she knew must be her own blood. She was surely going to die now, she thought. Her life was surely over. She was going to be killed by these imagined nightmares. She gasped for air and resignedly lifted her head up to gaze into her own death; instead, she saw her salvation.

Her eyes widened, her pupils dilated, and she gasped as she saw the most beautiful sight she must have ever seen in her whole eighteen years. An enormous castle stood in the distance, outlined by a flash of lightening in the stormy sky, its many spires soaring majestically, its many glimmering golden lights flickering at her in the subsequent darkness. She knew that if she could somehow reach this place, she would be found. There would be people there. She would be saved from death at the hands of these imagined nightmare creatures.

All pain seemingly forgotten, she scrambled to her feet, summoning every last ounce of this strength that she never knew herself to possess, and took off again in the direction of the looming building. Her pursuers must have slowed some distance behind her after she had fallen, thinking her to be felled, for she heard several cries of surprise as soon as she had sprung to her feet and started running once again. The thunderous sound of heavy hooves picked up a second time, gaining behind her, but she did not care, and she did not glance back. All that mattered to her now was reaching this castle, and she would not be stopped.

To her horror, with another flash of lightening, she saw out of the corner of her eye that one of the monsters had gained on her and surpassed her. Out of the dim light now floating toward her from the castle, she could see the monster coming straight toward her, howling, and holding aloft a spear that was meant for her.

She dug her heels into the earth, planning to jump aside and dodge the creature, but instead she fell back. The creature was almost upon her. She gasped in terror, her eyes wide as the creature reared above her, its spear pointed downward at her heart. She yelled in fear. She was surely going to die now. Her entire body tensed as she braced herself for her imminent death. But the deathblow did not come.

It was then that her entire world seemed to slow. She watched as the creature was ever so slowly driving its spear down toward where she lay, as if the passage of time had almost come to a screeching halt. All sound of the storm above, the howling wind, the heavy rain, and the thundering of hooves had vanished. She could hear nothing but her own thoughts echoing inside her head, her own heartbeat pounding slowly in her ears, and her own breathing. In this split second of clarity, she knew that she had to take advantage of whatever bizarre intervention this was and save her own life. Taking a deep breath and shutting her eyes tight, she rolled to the side, out of the spear's path.

As soon as she made this movement, time seemed to resume its normal, all-too-speedy flow, for she instantly heard the spear tip driving into the ground where she had just been, followed by two heavy thuds as the creature's front hooves came into contact with the earth only inches beside her. She knew she only had seconds, maybe even less than seconds, before she was assaulted a second time, and it seemed unlikely to her that time itself would slow down for her once again and allow her to throw herself out of death's path.

She had know idea what she was doing, or why. She only blindly obeyed her body's instincts which drove her to thrust her hands out toward the creature's closest leg as she lay there on her side and grab hold of it. She had no idea what this could possibly accomplish, but when her hands tightened, seemingly of their own accord, and grew very hot, she knew she had done something.

The creature above her howled in agony. It reared up to wrench its burning leg from her grasp, and she let go instantly, lest she be dragged up with it. The creature's eyes were as wide with pain as hers were with surprise at this miracle she had produced. It lost its balance and tumbled backward, crashing into its pursuing fellows and causing them to collapse in heap of tangled, flailing limbs.

Calling upon the last of her strength, she righted herself once more and continued to run toward the castle. She was very close now. If the creatures gained on her a second time, she would most likely not be able to make another narrow escape. It was only after a few moments that she realized that she was no longer being pursued by the rolling thunder of hooves. Chancing a glance back over her shoulder as she ran, she could no longer see the monsters pursuing her. She could not see them at all. They seemed to have stopped chasing her. Letting out a loud, relieved groan at the second lucky thing that had happened to her all night, she continued to run on toward the castle.

She had reached it.

She was a mere twenty yards from its large front doors when her body slowed to a walk. The reality of what had just happened to her, her fatigue, and the pain from her injuries, slowly crept up on her as this foreign strength she had summoned seemed to fade away. She was completely exhausted from several hours of walking as well as her flight through the forest and up to the castle. Several cuts and scrapes bit at her arms and legs. Her clothing was torn in many places, and there was once again the great pain in her right shoulder. The entire right side of her back felt very wet and very warm. This pain seemed to shoot through her entire body with every step she took. The last steps toward the castle's doors were agonizingly slow and painful.

With effort, she dragged herself up the stone steps in front of the massive wooden doors. Had her mind been clearer instead of fogged with so much pain and fatigue, she might have been wondering what had allowed her to previously ignore all this pain and exhaustion while she was running for her life. She might have been wondering what exactly had happened when time itself seemed to slow for her, allowing herself to dodge the Centaur's plunging spear. She especially might be wondering what exactly she had done to the Centaur's leg, and what had driven her to do it. Instead, her only thought was the same exact one that she had been having for most of the evening; she wanted to be found.

Grimacing in pain, she raised her right arm and began to pound as hard as she could on one of the large doors. Terrible pain shot through her arm and shoulder with every knock, but her desire to be found was greater than her desire to spare herself additional hurt.

"Help!" she yelled out as she continued to beat on the door. "Somebody!"

She pounded on the door several more times. She then sank to her knees in weakness. She could do no more.

"Anybody...," she half yelled. Her eyes darkened. She sagged sideways and tumbled down a bit, coming to a stop. She lay sprawled out, face down, on the steps of the castle. The rain continued to beat down upon her unconscious form.

* * *

He hated it when it was his night to patrol the corridors and give the castle a once-over after curfew. Well, that wasn't entirely true, he thought to himself. He did enjoy it on the rare occasion when he happened upon a student sneaking about past curfew time, onto whom he could liberally dole out punishment. It had been a good long while since that had happened, however, and it appeared that tonight was shaping up to be just as uneventful and boring of a patrol as usual.

He strode confidently in the direction of the entrance hall, his wand illuminated, and his black robes swirling about him as he went. The sounds of his footfalls on the stone floor echoed loudly off the walls. He absently contemplated placing a silencing charm on his boots. He might very well be giving students out past curfew an advanced warning to get out of his path with all these echoing steps. He impatiently swept the hall with his wandlight, halfheartedly glancing around, knowing that nothing was amiss. The last part of his patrol was to check the entrance hall. Having done this, he turned about on his heel and began to stride quickly in the direction of the other corridors which would lead him back to his secluded dungeon.

Turning out of the entrance hall, he was stopped in his tracks. A loud noise which sounded like cannon-fire issued from the door. It echoed deafening thunder through the empty corridors. Several more of these noises followed the first, until it sounded as if an artillery battle had broken out just outside the castle's door. Wheeling about, he hurried back into the entrance hall and toward the door, long graceful strides causing his robes to billow. While he had walked, the noises had ceased, but as soon as he stopped at the door, they continued for a few moments longer. Someone was banging on the castle's door. _This had better be good,_ he thought to himself.

Scowling darkly, he flicked his illuminated wand at the door. Its huge security mechanisms immediately began the sequence of unlocking themselves. Waiting for the door to finish its process, he affixed his facial expression with one of his best glares for whomever was standing on the other side of the door making such an unholy racket at this time of night.

The door creaked open loudly and opened up, slowly revealing the stormy night to the dark, scowling figure. To his surprise, his glaring eyes met nothing but empty space where a person should have been standing. He continued to stare out into the rain for a few more moments, his wand held aloft.

"This better have not been a joke," he said quietly to himself. Grimacing in anger and impatience, he lowered his wand, and his eyes followed. There was something, or someone, lying on the steps. He quickly advanced several paces, onto the top step and into the rain, his wandlight trained down.

Sprawled out, face-down on the castle's steps, lay a girl. Despite his determinedness to glare, his black eyes widened in confusion and surprise as he took in the state of this girl. She was dressed in Muggle clothing which seemed to have been torn in several places, and he could see several rough, jagged cuts and scrapes along her arms. Her long dark hair, which was completely drenched like the rest of her, obscured her face. The most terrible part of this analysis, however, was when he noticed what must have been the shaft of an arrow jutting out from her right shoulder at an awkward angle. His eyes followed the dark patch of blood which ran along her back and side. A thin stream of blood was now trickling down the castle steps, washed along by the rainwater. He immediately knew, whoever this person was, they were badly injured.

He held his wand aloft once again and swept it from side to side, the light from its tip penetrating the darkness. He searched for any other figures that might be present, but there was no sign of anyone else. He then shone his wand back down at the unconscious girl. Placing his lit wand in his teeth, he hurried down the top few steps to where the girl lay, moved himself to the step underneath her, and knelt beside her. The rain was coming down extremely heavily, and he was quickly growing wet from only a few moments in the rain.

Placing his left arm underneath her and using his right arm to roll her toward him, he carefully gathered her up into his arms, taking great care to not brush or disturb the arrow shaft protruding from her. He then stood and raced back into the entrance hall, his illuminated wand still held in his teeth. His hurried footfalls echoed loudly, but he no longer cared about the noise he was making. He had to get this girl to Pomfrey immediately.

He glanced down at her as he hurried along. She looked extremely pale, almost as pale as he normally looked himself. He knew it was usually not normal for others to look this pale, however. With a shock, he saw that when he met her eyes, she was looking back into his own, her eyes barely half open.

He did not know why he could sense so much fear and pain in them. Usually he made it a point to avoid empathizing with others. Maybe it was because he too knew what it was like to lie there, helpless and bleeding, and believing that your life has come to an end. Whatever the reason, he felt a strange twinge of this empathy sweep through him. His wand still between his teeth, he could not say much. Despite this, he managed to speak a few words.

"I've got you," he said quietly.

He watched as her eyes became unfocused and then closed as she once again lost consciousness.


	2. Found

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The Name in Red.

Chapter 2: Found.

* * *

There was a bright, white light shining down upon her. Her eyes, barely open and clouded with pain, soaked it in. It stung them harshly. She could see bits of it through the wet hair covering her face, but could make out nothing more than this mysterious light. She was too weak and too injured to move or make any sound. _This is it_, she thought. _I must be dead. Is this the so-called light that I'm supposed to move toward?_

Her thoughts quieted when the light swept off of her and the darkness of the night closed around her once again. She heard nothing but her own faint heartbeat and the heavy rain. This darkness was only momentary. Barely seconds later, she could see the light once more. This time, the light was accompanied by the sound of footsteps on the wet stone. It was then that she knew she was still alive, though _how_ alive she may or may not be, she did not care to think about. She also realized that she was not alone. Unable to move even if she had so desired, she remained completely still and continued to listen for more sound. Fear coursed through her veins. She was certain that the nightmares had caught up with her once again and would now drag her away while she was only inches from being saved. After a few more moments of frightened contemplation, she realized that the footsteps she had heard on the stone did not sound nearly heavy enough to have belonged to the huge monsters that had chased her here. Something else was there.

She ridiculously began to imagine what new kind of monster was about to attack her. She then felt an exceedingly gentle touch which drove all these thoughts from her mind. Something, presumably a person's arm, snaked its way under her torso. Another arm then came into contact with her opposite side, rolling her over toward this person. She was then carefully scooped into this person's arms. Her head lolled back against a flat, firm chest as she was lifted. Through her now-closed eyelids, she could see the strange white light once again, shining brightly just above her. She was too weak even to groan in pain as this person began a hurried walk, each step sending waves of agony radiating through her body. From what little she could sense, she could tell that she was now indoors. The merciless rain had stopped beating down on her. The wind of the storm had faded away. All was silent except for her savior's loudly echoing footsteps.

An intense feeling of relief washed over her. She had been found. Though where she was, and who exactly had found her, remained as much of a mystery to her as everything else that had inexplicably happened this night. Determined to discover the identity of her savior, she forced her eyelids open a small way and gazed up into their face; she could barely see the pale face of a man with a long nose and lank black hair. He seemed to be holding some sort of strange, thin flashlight between his teeth. This was the source of the white light she had seen. There was a large scar on the right side of his neck, as if he had been bitten by something sizeable. The light of the strange flashlight also illuminated the man's deep, black eyes. With a shock, she saw that they were gazing back down into her own.

Something within the recesses of these black eyes called to her. It soothed her in some strange way. She found that, somehow, she was no longer afraid. Suddenly very comfortable in this person's arms, she began to fade away from the conscious world once again.

"I've got you,"

The soft, deep, slightly-muffled voice was the last thing she was aware of.

* * *

There were voices swimming in her head. All around her. They were growing steadily clearer. She could see warm, soft light through her eyelids. As she slowly became more aware, she realized that she was no longer lying on harsh stone, or being carried in the strong arms of her savior. She felt as if she were in a warm, soft bed in some very welcoming place. The man who had carried her from the steps must have brought her here. Keeping her eyes closed, she strained to hear more sound. The voices picked up again, and they were very clear now. She could now tell what they were saying. Deciding it was safest to remain silent and still, she continued to feign unconsciousness, intent on listening to the people that were talking around her.

"...cannot tell," a female voice said. "In the meantime I managed to patch her up, mostly. She suffered many cuts and bruises, as well as a few broken ribs. Nothing a few simple spells couldn't fix, and some additional potions should have her completely on the mend. She did lose a lot of blood. The worst damage was done by this."

There was a small gasp of astonishment.

"You cannot be serious," a different, higher female voice exclaimed. This voice carried a Scottish accent.

"I'm afraid so," the first female voice continued. "We pulled it from her right shoulder."

"What can this mean?" the Scottish-accented voice continued. She sounded astonished.

"It is obvious," stated a deep, silky male voice. "She must have been attacked by the Centaurs."

"But surely they would not have attacked an innocent young girl?" the Scottish-accented voice asked.

"Apparently they must not have thought she was so innocent," the male voice followed sardonically.

"What can this mean?" the first female voice asked.

"There is no way of knowing," said the male voice flatly. "The fact that she was able to escape Centaurs bent on attacking her is a miracle in itself. She is lucky I came upon her when I did. Had it been much longer, she could have bled to death on the school's doorstep. The _Prophet_ would have had a field day," he drawled.

"You don't recognize her then, Minerva?" the other female voice asked, dismissing the man's sarcastic comment.

"I'm afraid not, Poppy," replied Minerva sadly. Hers was the voice that carried the Scottish accent. The other two, so far, sounded British. "There is no clue as to her identity, then? Nothing to identify her by? Was she not carrying a wand?"

"We searched her person while healing her, and I returned to personally search the castle steps where I first found her while I was finishing my rounds," the male voice supplied. "There was no sign of a wand there. It appears she was not carrying one, _if_ she ever had one in the first place."

There was a short pause.

"She _looks_ like a _Muggle_," the male voice explained, sounding impatient.

"Severus, you know as well as I that a Muggle would not have been able see the castle. It would have appeared as nothing more than a ruin to her," Minerva replied, she too sounding impatient. "She would not have been able to approach it, let alone come right up to the door and knock on it. She is _not_ a Muggle."

"Perhaps the charms and wards have failed over the years," replied Severus.

"The charms and wards are as strong as ever," quickly replied Minerva. "She must have simply lost her wand while fleeing from the Centaurs. Perhaps it was even broken. I would like to meet the witch or wizard who keeps a cool head in a situation like that."

There was another, longer pause.

"It looks as if we will have to wait until she wakes to ask her who she is, and find out what happened to her," said Minerva.

"Allow me," stated Severus.

There was some stirring. The girl lying on the bed quickly grew nervous about what was going to happen next. Her heart began to race, pumping the adrenaline she had been so familiar with all evening back into her system. She did not know where she was, who these people were, or what they were planning on doing with her. She did know, however, that _she_ was their current topic of conversation, and her mind was madly racing to process bits and pieces of what she had just overheard. _Spells? Potions? Wands? Muggle? Centaurs? Had she really been attacked by Centaurs, then? No,_ she decided. _This had to be a dream. She must have died, or she was still unconscious somewhere. This could not be real._ She was surprised that the people around her could not hear her thoughts screaming through her head.

Out of nowhere, she felt a very warm, very _real_ calloused hand underneath her chin. She had felt this gentle touch once before. Just as it had previously done as she lay helpless on the steps, mind racing, it momentarily chased all thought from her. The hand tilted her head back and she immediately felt something cool being pressed to her lips. Gasping sharply as thought jolted back into her, her eyes flew open.

Looming above her as her vision quickly materialized, was the same pale black-haired man who had gathered her up from the steps. His arms were extended toward her. His left hand was tilting her head back, and his right was holding what appeared to be a small flask, full of some unknown liquid, to her lips. She was suddenly terrified.

Letting out a strangled yell of fear, she quickly brought up her right arm to sweep the man's hands away from her face before any of the liquid could reach her mouth. In the process, she hit the flask. It flew from his hand and shattered in a tinkling explosion of glass, its contents spilling out on the floor. Before anyone present had much time to react to what had just happened, the girl was scrambling up the bed until she was crouched at its head and pressing her back into the wall, wishing that she could climb up its height.

Her eyes darted frantically around the room; it looked to be some kind of infirmary, but an extremely old-fashioned one. Several more beds lined the wall that she was backed up against, and the opposite side of the large room looked much the same. It had a high ceiling and high windows. One end of the room was adorned with huge double doors. Not far from these was another, smaller door which led into a different, separate room. It was still extremely dark outside, and the room was illuminated by dozens of large sconces. Their light glinted off the many strange-looking bottles and flasks resting on small cabinets between the beds. Rain was pelting the windowpanes.

She directed her gaze back to the people before her.

There stood three people wearing bewildered expressions, all staring at back at her. The man on her left, whom she had seen before arriving in this infirmary, was very tall, and clad completely in black. His lank black hair hung around his pale face, his black eyes fixed on her. He was still leaning over the bed which she was on, in almost the same position he had first been when she had knocked the flask out of his hands. At the foot of the bed stood a tall, rather severe-looking woman with green eyes, wearing a tartan dressing gown. Shifting her eyes to the right, she saw another woman, seated in a chair, and wearing a sort of white nurse uniform. She was holding a long, fiercely-tipped arrow in her right hand. The girl then glanced down at the stone floor a short distance away, looking at the flask she had just shattered and quickly wondering what exactly this man had been trying to get her to drink.

She looked back to the three people standing around her. She was extremely frightened and her chest was heaving. The tall dark man straightened up and gave her an appraising look. She met his deep black eyes as they swept over her body. Then it struck her.

She was no longer in unbearable pain.

There was only a dull ache in her shoulder where the worst of the pain had been before. She slowly glanced down at her own body, a look of confusion painted across her face as she examined herself. Her clothing was torn in places, but most of the cuts and scrapes she had sustained had been mended somehow. There was still some bruising, and she could definitely tell by the ache in her chest that some of her ribs had indeed been broken, but they did not hurt as much as they should have. They had somehow been mended as well, like the rest of her.

She slowly lifted her gaze back up toward the three mysterious people standing around her, wearing the same confused expression she had worn while examining her mostly-healed body. Her mind, and her heart, were racing.

"Who are you?" the girl asked shakily.

"We were just about to ask you the same question," said Snape.


	3. Inquiry and Argument

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 3: Inquiry and Argument.

* * *

"Who are you?" the girl asked shakily.

"We were just about to ask you the same question," said Snape.

The frightened girl's eyes shifted to the tall dark man who had answered her. This was not exactly the response she had been hoping to get.

There were several moments of silence. The dark-eyed man continued to stare up at her. Upon looking directly into her eyes, his expression of confusion intensified briefly. The girl looked to the green-eyed woman standing before the foot of the bed. In doing so, she discovered that the woman's eyes were locked with her own, and she was still wearing an expression of shock and surprise while looking back at the girl... she almost appeared frightened.

A few more moments of silence passed in which the girl and the woman at the foot of the bed continued staring into each other's eyes. Then, the woman cleared her throat loudly and shook her head, as if rousing herself out of some disoriented state and back to the reality before her.

"Now dear," she said, striding to her left around the foot of the bed. She walked toward the head of the bead, passing behind the chair in which the nurse woman was seated. "There's no need to be frightened," she said reassuringly, while extending a hand toward the girl who had backed herself up against the wall. "It seems you have undergone quite an ordeal tonight, but you are safe now. Please," she insisted, as the girl made no move.

The girl regarded the woman's hand warily for several seconds. Reassured by the woman's words and tone of voice, the girl had decided that she was not in danger. Finally, the girl lifted a hand of her own and allowed the woman to take it. The woman helped the girl lower herself back down to the bed in a normal sitting position. No longer backed up against the wall like a frightened animal, she let go of the woman's hand.

"There, that's better," said the green-eyed woman consolingly. "I believe it is only fair that, before _we_ berate you with questions as to your identity, that we introduce _ourselves_ first." As she said this, she gave the tall dark-eyed man a stern look. He looked back at her, clearly annoyed.

"I am Professor McGonagall," she began, "This is Madam Pomfrey, our resident Healer," she said, motioning to the woman in the white uniform seated on a chair next to the bed, "And this is Professor Snape," she nodded to the tall dark-haired man, "He was the one who found you and brought you here for aid."

The girl turned to regard the tall man. She nodded once, slowly, and then turned back to Professor McGonagall. She was looking down at the girl expectantly. The girl met her gaze and took a deep breath.

"My name is Sarah," said the girl. "Sarah Garrend."

The three people surrounding the bed on which the girl sat all glanced at each other. These were only the second set of words that they had heard the girl speak. They were apparently unable to recognize her name. This, however, was not the issue at the forefront of their minds as they all exchanged somewhat surprised looks. Her voice was clear now, no longer shaky and frightened-sounding; it immediately made clear to them that she was not from England, Scotland, _or_ Ireland, the three countries which fed into Hogwarts.

Sarah looked around at all three of them confusedly, wondering what could possibly be so perplexing about what she had just said. Professor McGonagall quickly turned back to her.

"Well, Miss Garrend," said Professor McGonagall, "Could you possibly tell us where you are from?"

"I'm not from Scotland, if that's what you're asking," Sarah replied to her. "Or England," she added, nodding her head toward the other two occupants of the room whose accents she had heard and identified. She took another deep breath, preparing to speak again; all three people whom she was about to address, however, had already surmised what she was about to tell them. "I'm from America."

Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly several times, but said nothing; Snape began to absently stroke his chin with his long fingers, looking contemplatively at the girl. McGonagall too looked contemplative, carefully deciding what to ask the girl next. The fact that she was from America did not concern her _too_ greatly; she knew that the United States did have a magical population, but it was a far smaller and less concentrated one than Britain's, as well as the rest of Europe's. There were very few schools of magic there, none of them even coming close to Hogwarts in size or renown. In Minerva's mind, the fact that the girl had been able to see _and_ approach the castle was proof enough that she had to be a witch. It was this fact that drove her to be forthcoming and ask the girl outright, without mincing words:

"Which school of magic do you attend, dear?" she asked.

Sarah's eyebrows traveled halfway up her forehead, and her mouth opened slightly.

_"Magic?"_ she repeated incredulously.

Snape cleared his throat loudly. Professor McGonagall, eyes wide again with confusion, immediately looked up at him, glaring. This gesture of Snape's was clearly to be taken as an _'I-told-you-so'_. McGonagall, however, would not accept it. She knew her instincts to be correct, despite Snape's skepticism.

"Yes, dear. Magic," she pressed, looking at the girl once more. "You are a witch. Please tell us which school you attend."

Sarah stared blankly back at her.

"I'm a _what_?"

Professor McGonagall straightened. She turned to Madam Pomfrey.

"Poppy?" she asked.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head slowly. She knew precisely what Minerva was asking her.

"I examined her fully, Minerva," Pomfrey began, "There was no evidence of the type of trauma, magical or otherwise, that would have caused her memories to be lost or altered."

The girl on the bed looked more confused than ever. Snape spoke up immediately, sounding urgent.

"She is a Muggle, Minerva," said Snape. "I have told you so. She hasn't a clue what you are talking about. I have no idea how she came to be here, but we need to Obliviate her immediately and return her to wherever she came from."

Professor McGonagall rounded on Snape, looking severe. She was interrupted on the verge of speech by Madam Pomfrey, who had quickly risen out of her chair and began to speak, sounding fierce.

"She will _not_ be leaving my care for at least the next couple of days, Severus," she said.

"You intend to keep a Muggle _here_, Poppy? At _Hogwarts_?" asked Snape. The tone of his voice made it clear that he thought this to be a terribly foolish idea. "How exactly do you intend to explain any of this to her? You had best contact the Obliviator Headquarters at the Ministry, because _I_ will not be the one to fix her memories before sending her back after you have broken the Statute of Secrecy. _Then_, while you're at it, you can _also_ explain to them why you saw fit to give a _Muggle_ a full regimen of magical care in a wizard's hospital," he spat, his arms gesticulating wildly.

"She is _not_ a Muggle, Severus, I am sure of it!" shouted McGonagall. Her voice sounded even louder in the big, empty room. Snape began looking defensive. "Never, in the history of this school, has a Muggle simply wandered up to Hogwarts and knocked on the door! She was able to see the castle! She knew there were people here, and she came for help. Were she a Muggle, she would have simply died in the woods. Would that have pleased you more, Severus?"

"Of course not, Minerva," shouted Snape, both looking and sounding affronted.

"I was the one who began treating this poor girl, and I will be the one to finish the job! She is not leaving my care!" added Pomfrey.

"Regardless," Snape continued, "There must be some other explanation for this, Minerva! It is obvious she hasn't a clue about any of this. The enchantments on the castle must have failed when it was so heavily damaged earlier this year."

"There is no other explanation, Severus," stated McGonagall curtly. "I am well aware of your suspicions. The enchantments on the castle have never failed, Severus, despite the damage the school may have sustained over the centuries. They were put in place by its founders and remain intact to this day."

"Then explain _her!_" said Snape, gesturing, but not looking, toward the girl on the bed.

"She must simply be a Muggleborn who was kept out of school and thereby kept from the Wizarding community, or who the magical officials in her country never contacted to enroll," stated McGonagall matter-of-factly, crossing her arms over her chest. "We will simply need to contact the girl's parents."

Snape scowled. He obviously did not think either of these to be acceptable explanations of the mysterious girl he had found on the school's doorstep.

"Stop being stubborn, Severus," continued McGonagall. "You have seen her. Look into her eyes yourself and tell me that she is not a witch."

"I know it is strange-looking, Minerva," Snape began insisting, "But there must also be some other explanation for-"

He was interrupted.

"Excuse me," Sarah interjected loudly, cutting Snape off mid-sentence. She had sat silently through the heated argument that had broken out on all sides of her. Words could not express her confusion. No matter what exactly was being argued about, or whether or not she was indeed a witch as Professor McGonagall insisted, she knew that Professor Snape was right about _one_ thing at least; she was completely clueless.

There were a few moments of silence in which the three people gathered around the bed had all turned to look at its occupant. It was as if they had forgotten she was here in the midst of their quarreling, and their facial expressions communicated just this much.

"What is all this? Is anyone going to explain to me what's going on?" asked Sarah.

Professor Snape took a deep, calming breath and straightened up. He quickly swept some of his lank black hair away from his face. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked down at Sarah, giving her a sort of half-glare. She looked up at him. She could feel his black eyes boring into her own. She blinked at him.

Professor McGonagall unfolded her arms, resting her fingertips on the matress. Madam Pomfrey moved to stand at the foot of the bed, looking at Sarah with eyes full of concern.

"Yes, dear," began McGonagall cautiously, "But I am afraid that there is rather a lot to explain."

She looked thoughtful for a moment and seemed to be on the verge of speech. Sarah turned toward her and leaned forward, eagerly awaiting any explanation she could garner. Before she could speak, however, Snape made a jerky movement which caught both Sarah and McGonagall's eyes, and they both quickly turned to look at him.

Out of his robes he had drawn what appeared to Sarah to be a long, thin piece of black wood. Intricate designs were carved into it in places, and it seemed slightly thicker at one end than it did at the other. She briefly realized that this was the instrument she had seen before, which emanated the strange white light. He took this instrument in hand, raised his arm, and pointed it toward a spot on the floor some distance away. Sarah turned her head to look at this spot. McGonagall repeated this movement. On the floor where he was pointing, Sarah could see the shattered flask and its spilled contents. Suddenly feeling a bit guilty at her recklessness in slapping it away and breaking it, she blushed slightly.

_"Scourgify!"_

Sarah's eyes widened as she watched the liquid on the floor clean itself up.

_"Reparo!"_

The shattered flask leapt back into its original, unbroken form. Sarah gasped.

_"Accio!"_

Sarah's eyes followed the flask as it flew up from its spot on the floor and straight into Professor Snape's empty, outstretched hand. Sarah was silent, her mouth hanging agape, and her eyes huge. She simply sat there and stared at the miraculously reassembled flask in Professor Snape's hand. Taking in her expression, Snape smirked bemusedly at her. He then casually lobbed the flask toward her. Her eyes never leaving it, she caught it easily. She craned her head down, scrutinizing the repaired flask in her hands.

"Explain _that_," he snarked toward McGonagall. He then replaced his wand in his robes and strode over to the opposite side of the room, placing himself in front of one of the tall windows and gazing out into the stormy darkness.

Sarah continued to gape at the simple flask in her hands. Moments previously it had lain shattered in dozens of tiny pieces; now, however, it bore no evidence of ever having crashed to the floor. McGonagall watched her quietly. Madam Pomfrey strode away toward the opposite side of the room as well, busying herself with a large cabinet full of flasks and bottles.

Finally managing to tear her eyes away from the item in her hands, Sarah looked up. Her eyes rested briefly on Snape's back, full of awe, and then she looked up at McGonagall once again. Sarah was completely silent, but wore an expression on her face which almost screamed, _yes, please __**do**__ explain that_. She finally managed to squeek, "What was that?"

"That, my dear, was magic," stated McGonagall. She then paused, leaving a few seconds for additional inquiry from the gaping girl. All Sarah did was continue gazing at her, her wide eyes pleading for more information. "I am a witch, you see. So is Madam Pomfrey. And Professor Snape over there is a wizard," she motioned toward Snape, who was still intently staring out of the high window across the room. "We are able to perform magic. What you just witnessed were a few simple spells to clean up the mess, repair the flask, and summon it."

Sarah looked utterly astounded.

"This barely scratches the surface, I'm afraid," McGonagall continued, one side of her mouth curling into a tiny smile at the girl's astonishment with such a simple feat of magic. "I daresay magic can do far more than clean up messes and repair broken bottles."

Sarah nodded once, slowly. She did not look any less astounded.

"Your injuries, for instance," she continued, "Were healed using magic. It is not a cure-all, however, and as you have heard, you will have to remain in Madam Pomfrey's care for a short while longer before you will be completely well."

"And...," Sarah began, her voice faint, "I'm a... I mean, you think I'm a...," the index finger of her right hand was now pointing flush into her own chest in a rather unnecessary gesture.

"A witch, yes," McGonagall finished the girl's sentence for her. "Of that I am fairly certain. This castle is enchanted with protection to keep Muggles-," Sarah tilted her head comically, "-non-magical people, that is," continued McGonagall seamlessly, briefly noting Sarah's confusion at the term, "from seeing it, or even approaching it. Had you been a Muggle, you would have seen nothing but a dangerous old ruin and many signs warning quite clearly against getting close to it. Had you approached anyway, you would have become inexplicably terrified and filled with the urge to flee from the place and never return. But it is plain that all of this is news to you."

Sarah nodded vigorously, clutching the repaired flask tightly in her left hand.

"There are many magical families which live in the Wizarding community here and abroad, completely separate from the Muggle world," she continued. "There is, however, the occasional witch or wizard born to non-magical parents. We call them Muggleborns. Children in magical families are raised in the Wizarding community and are, obviously, quite aware of it. Muggleborns, however, are raised as Muggles, unaware of what they are, aside perhaps from their occasional strange occurrences which seem to have no logical explanation."

At this, Sarah gave several more vigorous nods.

"That is, until, a certain age," she continued, "usually at the age of eleven. A member of the magical community, usually a staff member representing the school at which the child will be given the opportunity of enrolling, will approach their family. Did this ever happen to you, dear? Were you ever approached by someone telling you or your parents that you were a witch?"

Across the room, Snape had glanced back over his shoulder. Sarah shook her head in the negative. McGonagall nodded.

"It is quite possible that this did occur, but that the witch or wizard was turned away by your parents," said McGonagall. "Enrollment in a school of magic is not compulsory, and parents are quite at liberty to keep their children from it once they learn what their child is, if they even believe it in the first place. Needless to say, most Muggles do not take to this news quite as well as you are," she nodded at Sarah. "Still, others are open-minded, excited, and proud of their children, and allow them to receive a different education outside of the Muggle world. We will simply need to contact your parents and ask them when this occurred, and why they decided to keep it from you."

Sarah's surprised facial expression, which had almost begun to resemble excitement halfway through Professor McGonagall's explanation, darkened into a serious one. She cast her eyes down at the flask in her hand briefly, and then looked back up at McGonagall. Snape was still watching the pair discreetly over his shoulder.

"You won't be able to," said Sarah, her voice sullen. "My parents were killed in a car accident when I was a baby. I've lived in foster homes my whole life. I'd just come to stay with friends In Moray, during a break, before I wound up here. I was staying in Dufftown," she sighed, looking down at the flask again. As she spoke, about the circumstances that had brought her into this part of the world, her expression became oddly fuzzy, as if she were trying to remember something that she could not quite put her finger on. Shaking her head back and forth dismissively, she continued speaking. "I don't have any family. None that I know of, anyway," she looked back up at McGonagall, who nodded in an understanding way.

"That certainly might explain why you were never inducted into the magical community," said McGonagall. "The authorities in America must have lost track of you, or thought you dead along with your parents."

There was a pause. Snape turned back toward the window, and Sarah looked back down at the flask.

"Could you tell us how you came to be here, then?" asked McGonagall kindly. "You obviously went through quite an ordeal. You are fortunate to be here. We even believe you were attacked by Centaurs."

"I didn't imagine them, then?" asked Sarah. She was clearly hoping she had.

"I'm afraid they were quite real," called Madam Pomfrey from across the room. Finishing up what she was doing in the cabinet, she approached the bed once again and held out her hand toward the girl. Resting in her hand was a wicked-looking arrow with blood stained on its tip. Regarding it for a few moments, Sarah dropped the flask softly onto the bed and took the arrow from Pomfrey's hand. She examined it carefully.

"I had gone camping with my friends," Sarah began, speaking extremely slowly as if she were trying to piece it all together. Her expression became fuzzy once again, and her eyes took on a sort of glassy glaze, and the tone of her voice fell somewhat flat. "They had gone to get some more firewood and for some reason, I felt like taking a walk. So I did," she said, gazing down at the arrow she was now twirling in her fingers as she recounted her story. "Pretty soon I got lost, I guess." When she reached this point in her story, her eyes began looking significantly clearer. She began speaking faster as if she remembered these particular events with more clarity, and the tone of her voice picked up. "So I just kept walking and walking. It got dark pretty fast. I thought that if I walked far enough, I'd find my way out of the woods, but the forest just got thicker and thicker."

"It must have been hours and hours. I just kept walking and walking. Then it started to storm pretty badly. I got soaked and I threw off my jacket and kept on walking," she continued, "and then the Centaurs found me. I didn't believe they were real. They started saying things. I don't even remember what they said, I was so afraid. They started advancing on me, so I turned and ran as fast as I could. I guess somehow I managed to stay ahead of them. Pretty soon I thought I could see where the forest ended, and I thought that if I could get out of the forest, I'de be able to get away from the nightmares that were chasing me."

"And then," she paused, and held up the arrow, "_This_ must have hit me. I fell pretty hard. I think the Centaurs must have thought they'd killed me, because they sort of slowed down and didn't come up to me right away. I thought I was as good as dead. Then, I looked up, and I saw the castle. I thought, if I could just make it there, I'd be alright. Someone would find me. So I got up and started running again."

"After taking an arrow to the shoulder?" Pomfrey gasped. Sarah nodded.

"I guess I was able to ignore it. All that mattered to me was getting to the castle. Adrenaline, I guess," Sarah shrugged. "So I kept running, but after I finally got out of the trees, one of the Centaurs cut me off and came charging straight at me with a spear." McGonagall gasped. Across the room, Snape had turned back away from the window and was now watching Sarah as she spoke. He began approaching the bed again slowly.

"I was going to try to stop and jump to the side but I fell backward instead. And then...," her gaze on the arrow in her hands intensified as she remembered the moment in which time had somehow slowed and allowed her to avoid being impaled by the Centaur's spear. "I don't know what happened...," she shook her head slowly, her eyes still on the arrow. "It was like... it was like life went into slow motion. I was expecting to die, but I didn't. Everything slowed down. I didn't know what was going on. Everything went quiet, and I could see the Centaur above me, driving his spear down. He was moving, but only barely. I didn't know what was happening, but I knew that I had to get out of the way. So I rolled aside."

Her eyes still on the arrow, she did not see the shocked expressions on the faces of her small audience as she spoke of time slowing down. Snape was now at the foot of the bed, looking down at her, black eyes wide.

"As soon as I did," she continued, "It was like time sped up again. I heard the Centaur hit the ground right next to me. Then...," she paused again, "I don't know what happened then, either... It was like something inside me was telling me what to do. I don't know what it was. Something told me to grab the Centaur's leg, so I did. I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Then my hands tightened even though I...," she briefly paused, wondering how to best explain it, "Even though I never told them to. They just tightened around his leg. And then they felt hot. _I don't know what I did_..."

She sounded just about as shocked at her words as her audience was. Since coming here and regaining consciousness, she hadn't put any thought into the details of how she was narrowly able to avoid death as time slowed. She hadn't even wondered what exactly she had done to the Centaur's leg, or what strange instinct had driven her to do it. It was all vividly resurfacing in her mind as she told her story, and she sounded absolutely floored. She was almost as surprised-looking as she had been when she first examined the repaired flask. Had she actually put thought into the details of what had happened to her before this moment, she may not have been quite as surprised to hear that she was a witch.

"I hurt him somehow, I must have," she continued after a longer pause, "Because he screamed like he was in pain and reared up again. I let go of his leg and got up and started running. He fell backward into the other Centaurs and stopped them chasing me for a few more seconds. Once I got really close to the castle they must have stopped chasing me entirely. I didn't see them or hear them anymore."

"I found myself near the door," she took a deep breath, remembering the moment the excruciating pain had set back in as she stood only feet from the castle's door. "And I managed to limp up to it. I was hurting bad. I banged on the door as hard as I could, for as long as I could. I yelled for help. And then I collapsed on the steps. That's the last thing I remember before," she paused, looking up at her tall, dark-haired savior. "I saw the light from your," it clicked in her mind, "Your wand. And then I felt you picking me up, and..."

The faint blush that developed across the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks did not go unnoticed by Snape. Luckily, the two motherly women at her sides took it to be flushing due to exhaustion and the stress of retelling her harrowing tale. Sarah swallowed, looking away from Snape and back down at the arrow she held. She decided not to go into details about how she had gazed up into the face of her savior and felt so deeply comforted by him and his reassuring words. She glossed over how she had felt so very safe in his arms.

Before she continued speaking, she quirked a brow at her thoughts. From her brief experience with this man called Severus Snape, the consoling empathy he had shown her as he carried her to safety already seemed strangely uncharacteristic. It was as if a man, completely different from the one who had carried her inside, was standing at the foot of her bed now. He was the man who had insisted that she was a Muggle and argued so heatedly with Professor McGonagall; not the man who had so tenderly carried her inside and reassured her. While she was idly wondering where this other, nicer Snape had gone, she was interrupted from her internal dialogue.

"_And?_" McGonagall pressed. Sarah had paused for too long, and her audience was obviously eager to hear the rest of her story.

"That's it, really," Sarah said quickly, "And then I woke up here," she said, looking down at the flask lying on the bed. "You all know what happened next."

She continued staring down at the bed. She did not see the silent, shocked expressions the three other people were now exchanging.

"Well," said McGonagall finally, "You have been through quite a lot, Miss Garrend. It is clear that you are exhausted and I think it best that you get a good night's sleep now. You have had an awful lot to absorb. We shall talk more once you are rested."

"Alright," Sarah agreed. She did not realize until just then how tired she really was. She looked up at Madam Pomfrey and held out the arrow, as well as the empty flask. Pomfrey took them from her and, nodding thanks, began to walk back toward the large cabinet on the opposite wall.

"I will be right back with something for you to take before you sleep, Miss Garrend," she called back over her shoulder.

Snape drew his wand from his robes once more and began flicking it along the walls. Sarah watched as the curtains on all of the windows swung closed.

"Thank you for speaking with us. Please, get some rest," McGonagall patted Sarah on the arm softly. Sarah nodded.

Professor McGonagall had already begun walking away when Snape made one last movement with his wand; he pointed it toward the girl lying on the bed and gave it a soft flick, his face twisted in concentration while doing so.

"Agh!" Sarah exclaimed. Her eyes stung. She closed them and brought her hands up, rubbing them furiously. The sting quickly faded and her eyes felt normal once more. Removing her hands from them, she glared at Snape. "What did you just do?" she demanded.

McGonagall turned instantly around, her tartan dressing gown flowing out slightly. She looked accusingly at Snape, who was still looking at Sarah. Sarah looked from Snape to McGonagall. When she met Sarah's eyes, McGonagall's mouth opened slightly and she seemed to nod once to herself. She then looked back to Snape and exchanged a hurried look with him. He gave a curt nod in reply. Turning once again, she strode toward the large double doors and left the infirmary.

"I did nothing, Miss Garrend," stated Snape smoothly, stowing his wand back in his robes. "You are simply overly exhausted and your eyes must be extremely tired. Please do everything Madam Pomfrey asks of you," he gave Sarah a serious look. She blinked at him once more. He then turned. Sarah watched him stride out of the infirmary after McGonagall, black robes billowing.

Another minute or two passed before Madam Pomfrey approached Sarah's bed again. She held another small flask filled with some kind of liquid. She held it out to Sarah, who took it from her gingerly, clearly skeptical of its contents.

"This is a potion that will help you sleep while relieving some of your pain," Madam Pomfrey patiently explained as she noted the girl's anguished expression. "It might not taste very nice, but please, drink it, and try to get some rest."

Still holding the full flask in front of her, Sarah watched as Pomfrey drew her wand from a pocket in her white uniform. She proceeded to flick it at each of the room's many large sconces, whose flames dimmed almost to embers. The room was now very dark.

"Sleep well," said Pomfrey, who turned and left the infirmary through the separate, smaller door on the opposite wall.

Sarah looked back to the flask in her hand and smirked. She was about to take a potion that was the equivalent of a Tylenol PM. Somehow she knew that this strange liquid would be much more efficacious than Muggle pills. Shrugging resignedly, she tilted her head back and downed the flask's contents in a single gulp. She grimaced as it burned her throat.

After carefully setting the flask down on the small cabinet next to her bed, she laid down and snuggled into the sheets. She winced from the dull ache in her shoulder and the pain in her ribs, as well as from the several bruises and small cuts she still had. Resting her head on the pillow, she closed her eyes.

Before she had time to reflect on the evening's events, before her mind had even a moment to race about the fascinating new world that had just been opened up to her, she was fast asleep. Upon waking, however, she would know quite for certain that none of it had been a dream.


	4. The Roots of the Problem

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 4: The Roots of the Problem.

* * *

Professor McGonagall pushed her way past the heavy double doors leading out of the hospital wing. They creaked loudly as she opened them. She walked quickly down the darkened hall, not bothering to shut the large doors behind her. Her footsteps were silent, muffled by the slippers she usually wore around her own private quarters in the Headmaster's tower. She had been in bed when Severus burst in to fetch her. He had spoke animatedly of an injured girl he had found outside the castle. His hair and robes had been wet from the storm, and the front of his chest and arms bore dark crimson stains. He quickly stopped back off in the dungeons to change before reappearing in the hospital wing after he had sent Minerva there.

Stopping to stand next to a liberally dented suit of armor, she waited, looking back in the direction she had just come from. Mere seconds later, she heard the large doors to the hospital wing creak shut. Hurried footsteps were then echoing down the hallway toward her. Snape approached her out of the darkness, and McGonagall turned and began to continue her way down the hall with him at a leisurely pace. Neither spoke for some time, both of them deep in thought. Finally, McGonagall broke the silence.

"I saw what you did," she said softly.

"Yes," replied Snape, his voice also soft. There would not be anyone up and about in the castle at this time of night, except perhaps for Filch. Still, they did not wish to risk being overheard by speaking loudly. "I thought it best for now. It should stick for a while, until we can find out more."

The pair continued to walk along in silence.

"Does it trouble you?" Snape inquired.

"Not in the slightest, although I must admit it I was taken aback at first," McGonagall replied. There was a moment's pause. "It is the details of her story over which I am concerned. It is hard to deny what she described to us. The ability of witches or wizards who themselves are able to manipulate time, however minutely, is almost unheard of," she said. "She did this without even thinking or knowing. The same goes for what she described about the Centaur's leg. The girl had no idea what she was doing."

McGonagall could dimly see Snape nodding in agreement beside her, but he remained silent. She spoke on.

"Performing magic subconsciously when one's life is in danger is not uncommon by any means," she said, "But the reaction she produced was extraordinary. I sincerely hope you are finished denying that she is a witch, Severus."

Snape remained silent, but nodded again. He folded his hands behind his back as he continued to walk.

"It troubles me," he said at last.

"It _is_ somewhat unusual, Severus, but not unheard of. Why should _that_ trouble you, of all things?" asked McGonagall.

"It's just...," he began, pausing to collect his thoughts. "When I first brought the girl inside, I looked at her... It was not the same, then," he stated.

"I see," replied McGonagall. She sounded grave. Coming to a stop, she turned to face Snape. They had arrived in front of the gargoyle which guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's tower. At the mention of cockroach clusters, it stepped aside, revealing the moving spiral staircase leading up to the office. While the stairs gracefully raised themselves, she spoke again.

"It is clear that we have much to discuss with this girl, and many questions that have yet to be asked," she said. "I shall be returning to the hospital wing at midday, to continue speaking with her. I think it best that you came as well, Severus. This is an unfamiliar place for her, but as long as she feels that she has people here to trust, I am sure that she will be up to telling us quite a lot about herself. You are, after all, the one who saved her."

"If you insist," replied Snape.

"I do," said McGonagall. She then bade him goodnight. Snape made a small bow in reply, turning to walk in the direction of the staircases which would lead him downward. McGonagall turned and disappeared up the spiral staircase, the gargoyle stepping back into place behind her.

As Snape headed toward his dungeon quarters, he thought to himself. It certainly had been an interesting night. He descended into the lower reaches of the castle, the vision of the girl still swimming vividly in his mind.

* * *

Light was streaming in from somewhere. She could see it just beyond her eyelids. It was not the strange white light she had seen before, however; it was richer and warmer. It was sunlight.

Sarah's eyelids fluttered open. She found herself in the same small bed that she had first awoken in when regaining consciousness during the night. Upon sitting up, she discovered that a large, white curtain had been erected around the bed, shielding her from the view of the rest of the infirmary. She could see sunlight pouring in through the high windows on either side of her. It was now daytime, and the heavy storm which had driven her here had finally ceased.

She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. The so-called potion she taken before going to sleep had done its job; she had slept extremely well, and her pain had lessened. She even felt well enough to get up.

Leaning very far to her left, she peeked her head out from the curtain surrounding the bed. She could see no one, and the infirmary was completely silent. Deciding that she must be alone, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and carefully stood up, stepping out of the curtain. She could still feel aches and pains, especially in her right shoulder and in her chest, but she did feel much better.

She turned to the high window at her side. Placing her hands on its sill, she leaned forward, peering out of it curiously. Her eyes widened, taking in the breathtaking view; she was surrounded by mountains and forest. Off in the distance she could see a large, strange-looking complex which appeared to be some kind of sporting arena. The sky was mostly clear, sprinkled only with a few clouds. The sun was bright and getting quite high.

Turning her back on the window, she walked out into the middle of the infirmary. Looking around, she saw that she was indeed quite alone. She strode around the room a few times, stretching her legs. Her feet were bare on the cold stone floor, and she was beginning to get a bit chilly in her torn clothing. Passing by the large cabinet resting against the wall, she stopped. Walking up to it, she saw that its doors were ever-so-slightly ajar. She glanced around again, noting that she was still alone. She was suddenly possessed with an insatiable desire to look inside the cabinet.

Carefully opening its doors, she was met with the sight of dozens upon dozens of flasks and bottles glittering at her in the room's sunlight. Her eyes widened. They ranged in size from very small to quite large, and there was a myriad of different colors. Some of them bore intricate designs and were shaped like strange things that she did not recognize. Others looked quite normal, resembling the flask that she had broken, and the flask from which she had drank.

She leaned in to examine them closer, brimming with curiosity about what each of them could do. She closely inspected a larger, white-colored bottle which appeared to be stoppered with a small skull. It read _**"Skele-gro"**_ in big black lettering across its front. Sarah snorted to herself in amusement; it didn't take much imagination to realize what _this_ particular potion would do. She looked toward the back of another shelf, where she could see several very dusty bottles which read _"Mandrake Restorative Draught"_. Looking to the shelf above it, she saw a flask which looked identical to the one that she had broken. Daring to carefully pick it up, she began to examine it. This must have been what Snape had first tried to get her to drink, still thinking her to be unconscious.

Her mind barely had time to process the words _"Invigoration Draught"_ before one of the infirmary's large doors creaked open loudly. Sarah gave a huge start, nearly dropping the flask in the process, and quickly replaced it back in the cabinet. Shutting it, she quickly spun about to face the doors.

Entering the hospital wing was a handsome young man with glasses and very untidy-looking black hair. He was dressed in a flowing black robe which hung open casually, revealing a vest over a white shirt. Tucked into this vest was a neatly-knotted tie of scarlet and gold. He was carrying a small, unlabeled box in his hands, and he was absently looking down at the floor as he entered. He turned to carefully close the door behind him. He then approached the other, smaller door in the room, knocking on it nonchalantly. He had not yet looked up to discover that he wasn't alone in the hospital wing. He looked to be absorbed with his own random thoughts.

When the door on which he had knocked did not open, he finally glanced up. Thinking he was completely alone, he did a small double-take as he spotted the girl standing only a few feet away from him, in front of the large potion cabinet. She looked petrified.

The young man did not recognize this girl. He quickly took in her appearance. She was pleasant on the eyes, but it looked as if she had been roughed up. She was wearing shredded Muggle clothing, and her feet were bare. She was slim, slightly shorter than himself in height, with a mane of very dark, straight brown hair which fell almost to her hips. Her arms had a few bruises and scratches. There were a few scratches on her face as well. He met her eyes, which were a deep brown. He smiled at her kindly, noting her apparent anxiety at his appearance in the hospital wing.

She seemed to relax when the green-eyed young man smiled at her. She mentally scolded herself; it had already been made quite clear to her that she was in no danger here. She had nothing to fear from this normal-enough looking person. She allowed herself to give him a small smile in return. Her eyes then flickered up to his forehead, where she saw the most peculiar-looking scar. It was shaped like a bolt of lightening. Her brows furrowed, and she tilted her head to the side slightly as she examined it. The young man cleared his throat quietly, taking notice of her awkward scrutiny.

"That's a really weird scar," Sarah began carefully, hoping not to offend him, "What's it from?" she asked.

The young man's green eyes widened, and he looked thoroughly taken aback. This girl did not have a European accent, and she seemed to not recognize his iconic mark in the slightest.

"You mean you don't know who-," the young man began, but he was interrupted by the doors of the hospital wing bursting open, creaking loudly. He immediately turned away from the girl to look at the source of the noise.

Madam Pomfrey hurried into the room, looking slightly flushed. Her eyes widened upon spotting Sarah out of bed, and standing very near to Harry Potter.

"Potter!" said Pomfrey loudly, immediately striding up to the pair. She took Sarah by the shoulders, turned her around, and steered her back toward her bed forcibly. Sarah complied, walking along as Pomfrey pushed her, confused. Reaching the bed surrounded by the white curtain, Pomfrey flung them open, turned Sarah around by the shoulders once more, and sat her down on the bed. Quickly throwing the curtain closed again, she called back to Harry.

"What can I do for you today, Mr. Potter?" she asked loudly, hurrying back toward him.

Harry, eyes wide at Pomfrey's actions and apparently flustered state, regarded the small box in his hands. He placed it in his right hand and extended it toward her slightly.

"Professor Slughorn asked me to bring-," Harry began shakily. Pomfrey, who was beginning to make him quite nervous, interrupted him. He barely had time to speak before she was upon him, taking the box from his outstretched hand.

"Ah yes, this will be the Strengthening Solution I asked for," she said quickly, placing the box on top of the large cabinet. "Thank you, Mr. Potter," she said, and began shooing Harry out of the hospital wing.

Harry, now very curious as to what was going on, began backing toward the doors as Pomfrey swept him in that direction. His mouth open, his bright green eyes swept to the white curtain which he had seen the girl disappear behind. He looked to Pomfrey and back again several times. Something about this girl clearly had gotten Pomfrey in a state when she had seen Harry standing with her.

"Madam Pomfrey, who's-," Harry tried to begin, but Pomfrey cut him off again.

"Tell Professor Slughorn I send my thanks," she said loudly, finally managing to shoo Harry out of the doors. "Thank you again, Mr. Potter," she said, quickly closing them, leaving Harry standing alone in the corridor outside looking utterly bewildered. He shrugged and turned away from the doors, headed back toward the Gryffindor common room. There he would tell Ron and Hermione about the strange young witch in the hospital wing who didn't seem to recognize Harry Potter's scar.

* * *

After shutting the large doors, Madam Pomfrey took a deep breath. Turning back into the room, she saw Sarah peeking out at her through the curtain around her bed and looking quite confused. With a sigh, she approached the large cabinet in which Sarah had been snooping, taking the small box from on top of it. Unwrapping it carefully, she removed a few small bottles, setting them to stand on the top of the cabinet. Sarah watched her curiously.

"What were you doing out of bed, Miss Garrend?" Pomfrey called over her shoulder.

"Oh," said Sarah. She was hoping that she hadn't gotten herself into trouble. "I woke up saw that I was alone, and I felt like stretching my legs, so I got up."

"The way I saw it," Pomfrey said, still fussing with the bottles, "You were not alone, Miss Garrend," Pomfrey sounded stern and concerned, but not angry.

"He wasn't here when I first got up," Sarah explained, "I was just-," she paused. _I was just sneaking around in that cabinet of yours_... "I was just walking around and looking out the windows when he came in."

"I see," Pomfrey replied. "Did you speak with him at all?" she asked, now approaching Sarah's bed with one of the new bottles in hand.

"No, not really," said Sarah, warily eyeing the flask Pomfrey was bringing over. "I had just asked him something when you came in and put me back in bed. He didn't get to answer."

Pomfrey un-stoppered the bottle and placed it on the small cabinet next to the bed. She removed her wand from her pocket and tapped the large white curtain surrounding it. Sarah watched as the curtain rolled itself away, folded itself up, and stowed itself neatly against the wall. Placing her wand back in her pocket, Pomfrey picked up the small bottle and held it out to Sarah.

"Please drink this," she instructed, "It will help you feel better."

When Sarah had taken the bottle from her, Pomfrey left the bedside and returned to the large cabinet again. She quickly busied herself in it once more. Gulping down its contents, Sarah shrugged and regarded the bottle from which she had drank. This potion almost tasted good. She then set the empty bottle down on the cabinet next to her.

"Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape should be coming soon," Pomfrey called from within the cabinet.

Sarah nodded. Several minutes passed, during which Madam Pomfrey continued organizing the contents of the cabinet, and Sarah sat silently on the bed. Sure enough, it wasn't long before the infirmary's doors opened once again. To Sarah's relief, the two other people whom she recognized in this place entered the hospital wing, shutting the doors behind them. Professor McGonagall was now dressed in emerald green robes, and Snape still looked exactly the same in his black attire. _Doesn't he ever wear anything else?_ Sarah thought idly as she watched them greet Madam Pomfrey. They continued speaking with Pomfrey for a minute or two. Sarah watched, her eyes on Snape's dark form, thinking about nothing in particular.

Finally, Snape and McGonagall approached her bed. McGonagall was smiling lightly as she regarded the girl, but Snape looked severe, almost glaring at her again. Assuming that Snape didn't like to be looked at for some reason, Sarah looked away from him.

"You look much better today, dear," said McGonagall kindly. Sarah smiled a bit.

"Yeah, I feel a lot better too," she said.

"Well since you are feeling so well, dear, I thought we might get down to business and talk some more," said McGonagall. "If you are feeling up to it, of course," she smiled at the girl and then cast a glance to Snape, who simply quirked a brow.

"Sure, I don't mind," replied Sarah, eager to be helpful.

"Wonderful," said McGonagall. She casually seated herself at the foot of the bed, crossing her legs elegantly. Snape remained standing, arms across his chest.

"What would you like to know?" Sarah asked, looking from McGonagall to Snape. She quickly looked away when Snape furrowed his brows at her. _He __**really**__ doesn't like being looked at_, thought Sarah, feeling awkward.

"Well," began McGonagall, clearing her throat, "When witches and wizards are very young, they sometimes don't have control over their magic, and use it without intending to. Children in magical families would of course know what had happened, but Muggleborns would be unable to explain it."

Sarah nodded, listening.

"I was wondering whether anything strange like this had occurred to you, dear?" asked McGonagall. "_Before_ the events of last night, of course?"

"Yes, now that you mention it," Sarah nodded. "I hadn't thought about it in years because I had no clue what happened, so I sort of just shrugged it off."

"Could you please tell us what happened, dear?" asked McGonagall.

"I was really little," said Sarah, "About nine or ten, I think. I was on the playground at school and there were these kids who would always pick on me. One of them was named Michael," Sarah explained, "And one day, Michael decided it would be a great idea to chase me around and hit me with this huge stick he'd found."

"So he and a few other kids chased me away from the playground, toward this big tree out in the field. The stick really hurt, and I had nowhere to go. Luckily I was a pretty good climber, and I managed to get up the tree so I was just out of Michael's reach. But they wouldn't go away."

Sarah took a deep breath.

"They started throwing rocks at me, and calling me names. I just wanted them to leave me alone," she said.

Snape's expression softened slightly as he listened to the girl's story. He himself had a similar memory of being humiliated by a group of children, in front of a large tree.

"They just kept throwing things at me and taunting me," Sarah continued, "And then..."

Sarah winced very hard as if she were in pain. She was actually picturing the details of what she was about to describe.

"Then I got really angry. Angrier than I could ever remember being," she continued, still wincing. "They had picked on me too much for too long. I was sick of it. I was so angry that I started wanting to hurt them, _anything_ to get them to leave me alone. I closed my eyes."

"The next thing I knew, the tree I was in sort of shook I heard the kids start screaming, so I opened my eyes, and I looked down. It looked like the tree's roots had come up out of the ground and started attacking the kids. When one of the teachers on the playground heard the kids screaming she ran over and saw what was going on, and started trying to pull the kids away from the tree. Some of them got pretty beat up."

She paused. McGonagall was wearing a rapt expression; even Snape was having a difficult time masking his attentiveness while he listened to the girl's story.

"Once the kids were safe, the roots stopped moving and went back into the ground. I was just sort of watching, terrified. I didn't know what was going on. I thought the tree might attack _me_ next, so I jumped out of it. The teacher saw me and I got scared. I ran home, but I didn't tell anyone about what happened."

"The next day at school, it was the strangest thing...," said Sarah, "Nobody looked at me funny. None of the kids had a scratch on them. When I got back onto the playground I could see that the tree in the field was gone, just completely gone. It didn't even look like it had been uprooted or chopped down. It had just disappeared. And when I asked the other kids about it, and the teacher, they seemed to think that I was crazy, and that there had never been a tree there in the first place. They had no idea what I was talking about."

McGonagall and Snape turned to look at each other simultaneously, their eyes wide. Just before Sarah opened her eyes again, they turned back to her, still listening.

"It was like it had never even happened, and on top of that, the kids stopped picking on me completely," she explained. "I was so confused. After a while I started thinking that maybe I had dreamed it, but it had all felt so real that I couldn't really convince myself that it hadn't been. I couldn't explain it."

"I just sort of decided to forget about it. And pretty soon after that, I had to move again, so I was never able to find out if they were just pulling my leg and pretending like it hadn't happened. Nothing else would explain why they were acting that way. But I guess magic could," Sarah stopped speaking and looked at McGonagall, hoping that she would verify this assumption.

"Yes, dear, it certainly would," replied McGonagall. Sarah looked relieved, but couldn't help noticing that Professor McGonagall looked quite concerned about something. Sarah then looked to Snape, who was staring quite intensely at her. It was almost as if he were staring straight through her. When he realized the girl was looking at him, he gave a small start and looked away.

"I would have to agree," said Snape, staring hard at the floor.

"Did anything like this ever happen again?" McGonagall asked.

"No, not that I can remember," Sarah replied. "Not until last night, at any rate."

McGonagall nodded a few times. She then stood, straightening her robes, and turned toward where Madam Pomfrey had been. The cabinet was now closed, but the small door next to it was ajar.

"Poppy?" called McGonagall.

"Yes, Minerva?" Pomfrey's voice sounded from inside the other room.

"Do you feel that Miss Garrend would be well enough to take a little trip to Diagon Alley tomorrow morning?" yelled McGonagall.

"I do believe so, yes," Pomfrey yelled back. "She should be well enough to leave my care by tomorrow afternoon, as well."

"Thank you, Poppy," McGonagall turned back to the girl on the bed. "Well, Miss Garrend, it is clear as ever that you have magic. I myself believe it to be high time that you start learning how to control it. We won't be having any freak tree-attacks at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she said confidently.

Sarah blushed faintly.

"As I am currently Headmistress, it would be highly inconvenient for me to leave the school for the morning," McGonagall continued, "But seeing how tomorrow is Saturday and there are no classes, I believe it fitting that Professor Snape take you."

Snape immediately looked to McGonagall, scowling. She seemed not to notice.

"Take me where?" asked Sarah.

"To Diagon Alley," explained McGonagall. "It is a well-known place where witches and wizards in the region do most of their shopping. There you will be able to purchase a wand. I believe you have already correctly guessed what they are," she nodded at the girl.

Sarah nodded in reply.

"Excellent," said McGonagall. Snape cleared his throat loudly.

"Yes, Severus?" McGonagall replied blithely.

"I will not be spending my Saturday taking the girl shopping," he said defiantly.

"As I have already said, Severus, I cannot leave the school at the present time. Furthermore, Poppy cannot leave the hospital wing unattended," said McGonagall. Snape began to shrink back. He knew where this explanation was going. "You are the only other person she knows here, Severus. She knows that she can trust you. Who else would you suggest take her? She cannot go alone."

Looking defeated, Snape simply grunted in a surly fashion and turned away. McGonagall looked quite pleased with herself.

"Lovely," she said. "Now that's settled. Very well, dear. Please get some more rest and obey Madam Pomfrey's wishes. Professor Snape will be back tomorrow morning to retrieve you, around ten," Snape gave a small grunt of protest designed to indicate that he was not at all pleased with this arrangement. "I shall see you when you return."

Sarah nodded agreeably.

"Thank you for sharing with us," said McGonagall. Sarah nodded again, indicating that it was no trouble at all. "I will have meals sent to you here. I do hope you enjoy your first excursion into the magical world," she smiled at the girl, and cast a very quick glance at Snape. He gave her a glare worthy of a basilisk. McGonagall then turned and left the hospital wing.

"Tomorrow, miss Garrend," Snape grumbled. He spun on his heel and trailed out of the hospital wing after McGonagall, slamming the doors shut behind him.

Sarah continued to stare at the doors for several more moments after Snape had left. Madam Pomfrey emerged from the other room.

"Now," she said, moving back toward Sarah's bed and taking her wand out once again, "Let's see what we can do about those clothes."

Sarah sat quietly as Madam Pomfrey magically mended her torn clothes. She reflected on what she had told Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape. She had never told _anyone_ about that before. She had assumed that, to them, it would be perfectly normal; McGonagall, however, had looked worried.

She then began to wonder about the following morning. She could not even begin to imagine what Diagon Alley would be like. She did know, however, that she would be in the company a rather uppity tour guide. Snape had sounded less than thrilled when McGonagall had volunteered him to take her, and he would probably be no less unpleasant when it actually came time to leave. Sarah hoped that Snape would let her enjoy the trip. As Madam Pomfrey continued to mend her clothes, Sarah idly thought to herself that she would not at all mind having the Snape that had carried her into the castle as a tour guide; this surly Snape, though, was a different story.


	5. SetUp and Shopping

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 5: Set up and Shopping.

* * *

The ground outside of Hogwarts was completely saturated. The sun was shining brightly, but the air remained thick with the smell of rain. A very heavy storm had passed through during the night, soaking the earth. Even now, about halfway through the day, there were still puddles everywhere that the bright sun could not banish. The floor of the Forbidden Forest was almost completely mud. This was the cause of much displeasure for a dark, cloaked figure standing at the edge of the forest, just outside the school's perimeter. Every so often, after sinking about an inch into the mud, it would kick its boots angrily against the tree it leaned upon. Boots relatively clean once more, the figure would lean up against the tree, waiting.

The figure grumbled deeply to itself. He had been waiting here for almost the better part of twelve hours. He didn't understand why he had to do the messy legwork, the figure thought. He was a major and crucial part of this plan after all, was he not? Yet here he stood in the muddy, rain-washed forest, having done what he was instructed to do, and waiting.

After not much longer, the figure heard a loud _crack_. Someone had Apparated to him. A second darkly cloaked figure now stood only a few feet away from where the first figure was leaning up against the tree. He quickly turned to face him.

"About time," the first figure said gruffly.

"I told you, I had business to take care of and I might be late," the second figure replied impatiently. The first figure only grunted.

There was a long pause in which both figures stared out of the forest toward the large castle nearby.

"Well?" the second figure asked. "Did she make it in?"

"She did," the first figure replied, kicking more mud off of his boots. "She's in there now, if she's still alive. She ran into some of those half-breeds. We weren't planning for _that_. They almost mucked the entire thing up. Shot her too, from the looks of it."

"She was able to get away from them?" asked the second figure.

"Yeah," the first figure replied, "Was close though. One of them nearly got her with its spear. I've never seen reflexes like that," he remarked.

"She'll have survived," the second figure said confidently. "Now, we wait. You will go and stake out the next location. It may be a while, but it's only a matter of time now before she turns up there, I think."

Clearly not taking well to being ordered around, the first figure grunted in reply.

"You're sure about all this?" the first figure asked.

"'Course I am," the second figure replied. He sounded annoyed. "For the last time, I told you _everything_ I found out about it. It's all right there. Now get yourself to the place I indicated, and stay there. We've already made arrangements for you to stay there for as long as necessary. You already know what to do when the time comes."

The second figure then turned on the spot, vanishing into nothingness with another loud _crack_. Mumbling obscenities, the first figure followed suit.

* * *

Having exited the hospital wing, Professor McGonagall moved to stand beside the same dented suit of armor as she had done the previous night. It was not long before the doors to the hospital wing were slammed shut loudly, and a very angry-looking Snape hurried up to her. She immediately took stride with him, heading down the long corridor side-by-side. Not wanting to open the floodgates of his anger upon herself, she remained silent, waiting for him to speak first. Seconds later, no longer able to contain himself, he began fuming.

"_Shopping_, Minerva? I am to take the girl _shopping?_" he asked mockingly, his voice raised. "I would prefer that you ask my permission before volunteering me for such an asinine job in the future. I am not a babysitter," he spat.

"Come now, Severus," McGonagall replied patiently, "It is not babysitting. Who knows, you may even enjoy it if you can manage to calm yourself down about it. You have barely left the castle since the start of term, if at all. It will be good for you to get out," she said sternly.

"I hardly see how that is of any consequence," Snape replied flatly. "It is beginning to sound as if you are babysitting _me_."

"Forgive me for being frank," said McGonagall, her voice raised, "But dealing with you, Severus, is indeed akin to dealing with a child sometimes. A _stubborn_ child," she added.

Snape looked livid.

"Regardless, I-," Snape began, but was quickly cut off.

"Indeed! Disregard yourself for _one_ small moment, Severus," McGonagall said loudly, "And begin to think instead about some of the things you have just heard!"

The pair continued to walk along in silence for some time. Snape did not look any less irked, clearly being unable to disregard his own annoyance at being volunteered to take the girl to Diagon Alley.

"The girl _needs_ a wand," pressed McGonagall, her voice serious.

Snape took a deep breath, managing to slightly master his temper. Mastering it _completely_ would be a herculean task of epic proportions.

"Do you really think that wise, Minerva?" he asked, folding his hands behind his back as he walked, and looking thoughtful. "The girl obviously has no control over her magic, and has produced extremely powerful reactions without even trying to."

"That is precisely why she needs a wand, Severus," McGonagall replied. "I believe her to be even more dangerous _without_ a wand than with one."

"Why is that?" asked Snape.

"Precisely the reason you yourself just spoke of, Severus," she continued, "The girl has no control over her magic, and has produced extremely violent reactions. It is true that she was under great duress at the times in question, and has not produced powerful magic under other circumstances, but she has still done things that most witches and wizards would be hard-pressed to do, even _with_ the use of a wand."

"Then why hand her a powerful magical tool?" Snape argued.

"Because she _needs_ this tool, Severus," McGonagall stressed, "Whatever the reason, the girl was kept out of school, and was never taught how to control her magic. It is imperative that she learn how to control and focus it. Otherwise, I believe her to be a danger to herself and others. This is why she needs a wand, and you will be seeing to it. You yourself have already told me of the strange reaction she had after having a powerful, uncontrolled surge of magic. I wonder if it is permanent. Do you really want to find out what else she is capable of when out of control? Or to see what _else_ might happen to her because of it?"

Snape remained silent, deep in thought. He still did not believe it was a great idea to simply hand this girl a wand, but he could see the logic in his colleague's argument. Perhaps if the girl was taught to use a wand and control her magic, she would no longer be at risk of creating dangerously violent magical reactions without intending to. He decided to put this thought aside and let McGonagall win this end of the argument. There was still something else that was troubling him about the girl, however. He lowered his voice significantly before speaking again.

"What about the rest of her story," he said, turning his head slightly to look at McGonagall as he spoke. "It is obvious what must have happened after the event she described to us, even though she herself is not aware of it."

"Yes," replied McGonagall, sounding grave. A crease formed between her brows as she spoke. "Someone obviously went to great lengths to cover it up."

"What do you think it could mean?" Snape asked. "The entire situation is... strange."

"I am unsure," McGonagall continued. "This girl was never approached by a member of the magical community to inform her of the fact that she was a witch. At the same time, her little faux pas involving the tree was seemingly covered up. Almost instantly from the sound of it. They _must_ have known where the magic originated from. Trees do not simply attack children on their own; save for the Whomping Willow, of course. But I highly doubt that the tree in the middle of her Muggle schoolyard was a Whomping Willow. For an incident of that size to be covered up so very quickly in the middle of Muggle America is very odd. The magical population there is extremely scattered and sparse. The chance of a witch or wizard having been there at the time is slim to none."

"Someone must have been keeping an eye on her," Snape deduced.

"It is possible," agreed McGonagall, "But why, then, was she never approached?"

"I haven't a clue," answered Snape.

"Nor have I," said McGonagall. "I agree, the entire situation is strange."

The pair continued to walk on together, passing through thick patches of warming sun which was brilliantly streaming in through the windows. In some cases, it was creating harsh glares of light off of the shiny suits of armor which lined some of the corridors. Many of them, like the one back outside the hospital wing, were harshly dented from when they had marched into the final battle against Voldemort. Some plinths here and there were even completely empty, their former occupants having been too badly damaged to return to their homes.

After a time, Snape and McGonagall stopped walking and turned to face one another. They had reached the gargoyle outside of the Headmaster's tower. The current conversation could go no further; neither of them had a clue as to the girl's circumstances. It was obvious _someone_ must have known that she was a witch. It is possible that she was even being watched by someone from the magical community, who was then immediately able to step in and erase all traces of what she had accidently done. At the same time, come the age of eleven, she was never approached. The girl hadn't the slightest clue that she was a witch until last night. She was already eighteen years old, many years well past the point that someone from the magical community would have approached her.

"All that aside," said McGonagall, "I expect you to be civil with her tomorrow, Severus. I daresay just about everything there will be a shock to her."

"She has been living as a Muggle her entire life, Minerva, of course it would be," he snarked back. "How would you expect a Muggle Londoner to react if you swooped down upon them and tossed them into the middle of Diagon Alley?"

"Probably about the same as she will react, Severus," McGonagall replied, sounding amused and trying not to smile as she recalled Sarah's reaction to the magically repaired flask. "Please try to be patient with her."

"I make no promises," he replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her. "We are going there to purchase a wand for her and then we are coming straight back. While we are on the subject, Minerva, how exactly do you expect her to pay for it?"

"I am more than willing to pay for the girl's wand," she replied. "I would also like you to take her to Madam Malkin's so she can get out of her Muggle clothing. I will provide the money for both."

Snape could no longer resist the urge to roll his eyes.

"Is there anywhere _else_ you would like me to take the girl, Minerva?" he replied sarcastically. "Shall you make out a shopping list for me?"

"Honestly, Severus," McGonagall chided, "Is it really so much trouble? I am sure she will behave herself around you."

"If it is so little trouble, then why not take the girl yourself?" he contested.

"I have told you, Severus. I have business to take care of within the castle. You are the best candidate to take her." McGonagall almost rethought her choice of words at this; she already had pictures in her mind of the tall, dour man dragging the poor girl along Diagon Alley. It was simply a matter of convenience that he take her. She also did honestly think it would be good for him to get out of the castle. "Besides, getting out of the castle will do you good. I am sure you could do with a stop-in at the Apothecary to restock on some things."

"I no longer teach Potions, Minerva," Snape replied, sounding annoyed.

"And what are you doing all the time while you are shut up in your dungeons?" McGonagall continued, "I know you still brew away like a madman, Severus, no matter the subject you teach. The hospital wing will have enough Pepper-Up Potion for the next five years."

Snape smirked.

"Please try to let the girl enjoy herself, Severus," she said. "No matter how difficult that may be for you to do for yourself."

"Fine," he said shortly.

"And as I will be paying for the girl's things, it looks like you will have to be making a stop with her at Gringotts as well," McGonagall twinkled. Snape practically growled. "She should enjoy that. I shall owl the bank right away and inform them that you will be making a withdrawal from my account tomorrow."

Snape stood silent for a while longer, scowling darkly at McGonagall. He was waiting for her to inform him of the _next_ five additional places he would be required to drag the girl to.

"That will be all, Severus," said McGonagall, sensing the reason behind his scowling silence. "After going to Gringotts, Ollivander's, and Madam Malkin's, you can take her straight back here. You do not have to make any other stops for her if you are not so inclined."

"I assure you I am not," he drawled.

"After you return, I shall wish to speak to both of you," said McGonagall. She then spoke the password to the gargoyle, watching as the stairs slowly raised themselves.

"As you wish," Snape replied. Giving her a small bow, he turned and quickly left the corridor. He was not headed back to his dungeons, however; he was now going to stalk the halls and find an unlucky rule-breaking student on which to let out his anger.

* * *

Harry arrived at the portrait of the fat lady. Delivering the password of 'phoenix fire', he was able to step through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. The fire was crackling merrily, keeping the autumn chill at bay, and the room was filled with bright midday sunshine. Ron, who was sitting quite closely together with Hermione on one of the comfortable couches, looked up at him as he entered. Hermione did not look up from her reading. In her hands she held today's copy of _Daily Prophet_. Across its front, in bold black lettering, it read: _**THICKNESSE CONTINUES TO CONTEST SHACKLEBOLT'S AUTHORITY AS MINISTER**_.

"Hey mate," said Ron, watching Harry take a seat in his usual armchair. "What took you so long? We left Potions nearly half an hour ago."

"Slughorn wanted me to deliver something to Madam Pomfrey," Harry replied. "Ever since the start of term he's been turning me into The-Boy-Who-Does-His-Personal-Errands. I just think he likes to show that off to the other staff members," Harry rolled his eyes.

"Sounds like him," Ron agreed. "What did he want you to deliver?"

"I'm not sure exactly," Harry said. "Probably just potions he'd made for the hospital wing, I imagine."

Harry yawned and leaned back in the soft armchair, making himself comfortable. At a table across the room, Neville sat studying quietly. Students who had attended Hogwarts the previous year had been offered the opportunity to repeat their particular year of education under more normal circumstances. Nearly everyone had accepted the offer; preparing for N.E.W.T.S. and O.W.L.S. in some subjects hadn't really been possible with a couple Death Eaters for teachers. Some of the students had even effectively dropped out at one point, having to take refuge in the Room of Requirements to escape the wrath of the Carrows.

Everything had carried over smoothly, with the minor exception that this year's class of first years was a bit larger than normal. Other than that, the school was completely back to normal, and Harry was immensely enjoying being back. The threat of Voldemort was no longer looming over him, and he finally felt as if he were living a normal life.

"Where's Ginny?" Harry asked.

"Still down at lunch with Luna, I think," Ron replied.

Hermione had still not looked up from her newspaper. Ron settled into the couch a little more, leaning into Hermione and glancing over her shoulder at the text in front of her.

"When's he going to give it a rest," Ron commented. Hermione gave a couple tiny nods to acknowledge that she had heard him.

"I saw a girl in the hospital wing," Harry said, the witch who had not recognized his scar still fresh in his mind. "I don't think I've seen her at Hogwarts before. She was sort of strange."

"What d'you mean?" asked Ron, looking up at Harry again.

"Well there were a few things that were out of sorts about her," Harry began. "First of all, she looked like she'd been beaten up or something. She was bruised and scratched and her clothes were a bit torn up."

"That might explain her being in the hospital wing, mate," Ron laughed.

"There's more, though," Harry continued. "She was in Muggle clothes, which isn't _too_ unusual I guess. But she sounded American to me."

"American?" Ron repeated, casting a surreptitious sideways glance at Hermione and sounding as if his interest had piqued. "That's great! You should take me up there to see her, Harry, I hear American girls have got really big-," Hermione elbowed him gently in the ribs. Harry laughed. Ron smiled and wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulders. Still looking into her newspaper, she smiled as well. She knew that he was only joking around and trying to get her to take her attention away from her reading.

"The weirdest bit, though," said Harry, "She seemed to not know who I was."

Ron looked at him quizzically.

"When she saw me, she saw my scar, obviously. I thought she was just another one of those people who would see it and say, 'Oh, you must be Harry Potter!'. But instead, she told me that it looked really weird and then she asked what it was from," Harry explained.

Hermione lowered her newspaper a little and began watching the conversation.

"Blimey," said Ron, sounding surprised. "What witch or wizard wouldn't recognize that scar?"

"That's what I was thinking," Harry replied.

"Don't worry, mate, she's probably just mental," Ron dismissed. "That would certainly explain why she's in the hospital wing, wouldn't it? Aside from having gotten into a row with someone, like you said."

"I'm sure she's _not_ mental, Ronald," said Hermione, folding up her _Prophet_ and depositing it roughly in Ron's lap. "Someone's probably just hexed her and she can't remember anything, and she's speaking funny, that's all."

"Could be," said Harry. Her explanation was somewhat plausible. Harry, however, had thought that the girl had appeared alert and articulate enough; not at all like someone who might have experienced a hex or curse that had damaged their memories somehow. She could be right, but there was no way to know for sure. Unless, of course, Harry went to talk to the girl again. His newly-acquired peaceful life had left him somewhat restless. He was almost eager to find something new to sneak around about. His invisibility cloak had been gathering rather a lot of dust lately.

"I still say she's probably just nutters," said Ron. Hermione smirked.

"Madam Pomfrey got in a state when she saw me with the girl, too," Harry continued. "When she walked in and saw me standing near her, she practically tossed the girl back into bed, behind a curtain. Then she pretty much chucked me out."

"I'm sure Madam Pomfrey just didn't want her being out of bed," said Hermione. "She was probably hurt, like you said, and needed bed rest."

Harry nodded quietly. Something about the whole thing seemed slightly off to him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"What time is practice tomorrow?" asked Ron, shaking Harry out of his thoughts.

"One in the afternoon," Harry replied. "I've told you about twenty times."

"I keep forgetting!" Ron said in his defense.

"Don't worry," said Hermione, "I'll make sure he shows up." She then leaned over to the side of the couch, picking up a large book that she had put there, and curled up with it. She began reading once again.

"Think I'll have a nap, then," Harry said, raising himself out of his armchair. Ron nodded to his friend. Hermione was once again completely absorbed in her reading.

Harry headed up to the boy's dormitory. He had lied; he wasn't really going to be taking a nap. A great idea had just occurred to him, and he intended to act upon it straightaway. Opening his trunk, he began sifting through it until he found the object that he had been looking for: the Marauder's Map.

Hopping up onto his bed and unfolding the map, he began scanning it until he located the area of the castle which held the hospital wing.

There, he observed a tiny black dot labeled _Sarah Garrend_.

* * *

Sarah awoke the following day at about nine in the morning. The rest of the previous day had gone somewhat smoothly for her. That was, of course, aside from her trying to climb up the wall again when a house-elf had appeared to deliver her lunch. It took Madam Pomfrey a while to calm her down and explain what it was. She then spent the rest of the day staring longingly out of the windows, admiring the school's beautiful surroundings. Come supper, when another house-elf appeared with more food for her, she seemed well-adjusted to the idea of them and was no longer frightened.

Having been supplied basic toiletries by Madam Pomfrey, Sarah was able to freshen up and prepare for her upcoming trip. Glancing in the mirror as she did, she was pleased to see that she now looked completely healed. There were no longer scratches and bruises from her ordeal in the forest. When it neared ten o'clock, Sarah sat idly on her bed, wondering what to expect from Diagon Alley. At the stroke of ten, the doors to the hospital swung open loudly to reveal Professor Snape.

He was dressed in the same black attire, as Sarah had come to expect, but was wearing a warm-looking traveling cloak over his robes. He simply stood in the doorway for several moments, eyeing the girl sitting on the bed a small distance away. When she did not move, he called to her.

"Well, are you coming or aren't you?" he yelled.

She quickly sprang out of bed and rushed to the doors to meet him. Before she could reach him, he quickly turned around, robes and cloak billowing, and began walking down the corridor at a hurried pace. Correctly assuming that she was meant to follow him, Sarah trailed after Snape. She nearly had to jog to keep up with him as his long strides carried him forward. As they wound their way through the castle, Sarah barely had time to marvel at the suits of armor or the portraits which seemed to move as she passed by. She was awed at how huge the place seemed, and she had barely even seen a fraction of it.

Reaching the entrance hall, Snape quickly strode up to the huge doors and tapped them with his wand. Catching up to him and breathing a bit heavily, Sarah watched wide-eyed as the door's mechanisms magically unlocked themselves and then slowly opened. Without a moment's hesitation, Snape strode through the doors, down the steps, and began his way down the long path which would lead him to the school's winged boar-tipped gates.

Momentarily distracted by her amazement at the huge doors, Sarah did indeed have to break into a jog to catch up with him this time. They continued walking down the path in silence. It was cloudy outside, but clear. It was also rather chilly. Only a few small puddles remained from the huge storm that had passed through the night before last.

Exiting the school grounds, they continued walking for a short while longer. Sarah had begun to wonder if they would be walking the entire way to wherever this place was. Snape suddenly stopped walking and turned to her, Sarah nearly colliding with him. Snape held out his arm.

"Please take my arm, Miss Garrend," Said Snape. He sounded just about as annoyed as he looked.

Sarah quirked a brow at him; was he trying to be cordial? She was confused. When he inclined his head toward her and gave her a harsh glare, however, she complied and put her arm in his. Something about his proximity began to make her nervous. She was close enough to take in his distinct scent as she breathed. She found that she enjoyed it.

"Hold on tight," she heard him say. She then felt him turn on the spot. She experienced the strangest sensation of her life; she felt a jerk somewhere behind her navel, and felt as if she were being pulled forward into crushing nothingness. She felt as if she were being squeezed from all directions, and she did not feel as if she could breathe.

As quickly as the sensation began, it was lifted. She felt her feet hit ground, and her lungs expanded to take a deep, gasping breath. Jarred and unsteady from coming out of nothingness, she became disentangled from Snape and tumbled to the hard pavement. She lay there for several seconds, breathing heavily, trying to process what had just happened to her.

"Such natural grace," Snape murmured.

Sarah turned her head upward to look at him, eyes wide. They appeared to be in a dark, urban-looking alleyway. He smirked down at her.

"Despite your apparent wonderment," said Snape, "This, _particular_ alley, unfortunately, is not Diagon Alley."

She only continued to stare up at him silently. Snape glared down at her with his black eyes.

"If you would, please," he stated, extending a hand toward her to help her up.

Taking his outstretched hand, she was roughly pulled to her feet, almost toppling over again. Managing to regain her balance and composure, she hurried after him as he left the dark alleyway. He turned left down a normal-looking urban street. Sarah examined her surroundings as she followed after him. Just moments previously, they had been just outside the castle. They had been surrounded by mountains and forest. Now, they were in the middle of a large-looking city. Cars were driving down the street, opposite of the sides she was used to. Pedestrians dotted the sidewalks, all bound for their own destinations. Looking up as they passed a street corner, she saw a sign that read _Charing Cross Road_. She picked up her pace and drew closer to Snape.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"London."

"How did we get here?" she pressed, still curious about the strange sensation she had experienced. "What _was_ that?"

Snape sighed. The girl was full of questions, and they hadn't even reached Diagon Alley yet.

"That was called Apparition," he responded, trying to be patient. "It is a method of travel used by witches and wizards to quickly reach a specific destination."

"Can _I_ do that?" Sarah asked, sounding astonished.

"It is fairly advanced magic," Snape replied. "Perhaps sometime in the future, with enough practice. For the time being, it appears I shall be doing it for you. That is called Side-Along Apparition."

"Why didn't we just do it right away from inside the castle?" Sarah asked.

Snape exhaled loudly, rolling his eyes.

"The castle has enchantments which prevent anyone from Apparating or Disapparating anywhere within the school's perimeter. It is necessary to leave the school's perimeter in order to do so," he replied. Sarah nodded.

After a few more minutes of walking, they reached a run-down looking pub called The Leaky Cauldron. Snape quickly opened the door, holding it open for Sarah.

"I thought we were going to-," Sarah began as she walked past him inside the door. He cut her off, quickly stepping in after her and letting the door shut behind him.

"We are," he said, sounding thoroughly annoyed.

Sarah was thankful to enter the warm pub; wearing nothing but a t-shirt and jeans, she had quickly grown quite chilled walking along the street. They passed through quickly, exiting through the back into an alleyway with red brick walls. Before giving the girl time to inquire if _this_ was Diagon Alley, Snape drew his wand from his robes and tapped the specific brick on the wall. The bricks quickly began rearranging themselves to form an archway.

"Wow," Sarah mouthed quietly.

"After you," said Snape, stowing his wand back in his robes.

Sarah slowly and cautiously stepped through the archway. She then found herself in an extraordinary place, much different from the Muggle city she had just stepped out of. She stood looking down a long, crooked-looking street lined with a menagerie of little buildings on both sides. Far in the distance, she could see a larger building with pillars, which looked like it was made out of white marble. There were merchant's shingles hanging everywhere. A small crowd of witches and wizards were walking along, chatting to eachother, stopping in the stores, or just window shopping. They were dressed in the same type of clothing as Snape was; Sarah suddenly felt very out-of-place in her Muggle t-shirt and jeans.

After giving her a moment to absorb the sight, Snape pushed past her and began walking down the street. She hurried after him, quickly growing chilled again in the cold autumn air. She wrapped her arms around herself, running her hands up and down her biceps. She was at least thankful that her long hair kept her ears warm. As she walked, she nearly collided with many people as she glanced all about, trying to see as much of the alley as she could.

When she reached a storefront which read _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_, the excitement was finally too much. She had stopped to peer into the window which was full of strange things she had never seen before. They zipped, whirred, and glittered. She was transfixed.

Snape had continued walking on without her for several more paces, until he noticed he could no longer hear the second pair of hurried footsteps shadowing his own. Turning about, he saw Sarah standing in front of George Weasley's shop, looking interestedly in the window.

"Honestly," he said, rolling his eyes, and quickly striding up to her. There he took hold of one of her forearms and began pulling her along with him. Sarah was about to protest loudly, but her complaints were silenced in her throat as she became focused on how warm Snape's hand felt on her arm. For some reason, her skin tingled and a slight blush spread across the bridge of her nose and tops of her cheeks. She allowed herself to be dragged along.

Even Snape could not help but notice how cold the girl's skin was as he had put his hand on it. Letting go, he turned back to glance at her. There was a slight amount of color in her face, but the girl looked pale in the cold. She had once again wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to keep warm. She was only wearing a short-sleeved shirt.

Snape stopped walking and quickly began to unfasten his traveling cloak. Sarah nearly collided with him again as he had made a sudden stop. She looked up to see him in the process of removing his cloak from over his robes.

"Surely you knew how cold it was," he said, giving her an annoyed look as he shrugged his cloak off. He begrudgingly thrust it into her arms, turning away from her immediately. "You should have worn something warmer," he smirked, quickly continuing on his way.

Pausing for a moment to look down at the cloak in her arms, she had to jog a bit to catch up with him again, throwing the cloak on herself as she did so. It was still warm from being wrapped around his shoulders, and she was quickly able to fight off the cold. She snuggled into it subconsciously as the cloak carried the same pleasant scent she had first come into contact with before her Side-Along Apparition with him. The cloak was much too large for her, and she practically swam in it.

They were nearing the end of the street now, and the large white-pillared building was looming in front of them. Sarah could now read the words _Gringotts Bank_ across its front. Reaching it, she hurried up the steps alongside Snape, who pulled open one of its heavy bronze doors for her. They next encountered a second, smaller set of silver doors. Snape drew one of them open and stood aside.

Stepping inside, Sarah's eyes widened. She was in a large bank hall with shining marble floors. Long counters stretched the hall's length on both sides. There were a few witches and wizards standing along them. Snape moved past her once again and walked up to the nearest counter. Sarah followed, her eyes on the shining floors. She nearly jumped back when she saw the teller; he was a strange-looking creature much smaller than a human, with long, thin fingers. He also had a long nose and long, pointed ears. The goblin peered at her angrily as she gaped at him. Embarrassed, Sarah retreated behind Snape's back to wait for him to finish whatever he needed to do here. She looked across the hall to the other counter, lined with similar creatures.

"How can I help you?" the goblin asked Snape.

"Severus Snape," he replied, "Here to make a withdrawal from Minerva McGonagall's account. She should have contacted you yesterday."

"Ah yes," the goblin nodded. "I shall return presently."

The goblin disappeared behind the counter. Snape looked back over his shoulder. He quirked a brow at the girl, who was standing directly behind him, only inches away, facing the other side of the bank. The goblin quickly returned.

"Here you are," he said, handing Snape a small black bag which jingled pleasantly. "Have a nice day."

Thanking the teller, Snape moved away from the counter back toward the doors, Sarah following after him. When they exited the building and were back onto the street, Sarah glanced back at the bank and opened her mouth to speak.

"Goblins," Snape supplied before she could get any words out of her mouth. He then drew close to one side of the street and opened another door for her. Sarah looked up and saw a merchant's shingle which read, _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_.

"We shall stop in here first," Snape said, "I doubt that Mr. Ollivander will cherish the idea of selling one of his wands to a girl whose clothing screams of Muggle."

About forty-five minutes later, Sarah had been fitted for a few pairs of casual black robes. Madam Malkin had been difficult to deal with when Sarah had insisted that she continue to wear her jeans underneath, however. The girl would only acquiesce to a more appropriate pair of shoes than her Muggle boots. Sarah also insisted on getting a larger set of robes and some loose-fitting, comfortable pants that she could use as pajamas, as well as some additional simple undergarments. Snape paid for her purchase with large gold coins from the bag which the goblin had given him.

"Who's paying for all this? I've got money, it's not gold coins like that, but-," Sarah had began when they exited the shop, but Snape cut her off.

"Professor McGonagall has been kind enough to pay for your little shopping trip today," he said. "We shall, however, be able to have some of your Muggle money changed into wizarding currency at a later date, if you so desire. Come."

"Oh, wait," Sarah said before Snape could start hurrying away again. Now dressed in her new casual robes, she no longer needed his cloak to keep warm. "Your cloak," she said, handing it out to him. She thanked him quietly.

Giving no sign that he had heard her thanks, he threw on his cloak again and began to proceed down the street. Sarah followed, carrying her bag of clothing. They soon reached another shop labeled _Ollivander's_ in peeling gold letters. She stepped inside as Snape held the door open for her once again.

This shop was very small and narrow. There were huge stacks of long, thin, rectangular boxes everywhere. A small, frail-looking man with white hair and pale eyes stood behind a small counter. He smiled politely at his new customers.

"How can I help you two?" he asked.

"This young lady needs a wand," Snape stated, shuffling Sarah around to stand near the counter.

"I see, I see," said Ollivander, looking Sarah over appraisingly. She felt strange as he examined her. He was about to start inquiring about her, but stopped when he saw Snape's glare. The last thing Snape needed was Ollivander asking too many questions about the girl.

Almost an hour later, during which parts of the store had been significantly damaged, Sarah had finally found a wand.

"Oak and chimaera scale," said Ollivander, nodding as he examined the wand now in Sarah's hand. "Ten and one-half inches. A perfect match, I think," he smiled at the girl. She smiled back. The wand felt extremely good in her hand, but she could not explain why.

"The core is somewhat rare," said Ollivander, "But it is quite powerful. Known even to be volatile at times."

Snape sighed and ran his left hand over his face tiredly. _Just what __**she**__ needs,_ he thought to himself. _This is going to be a disaster._

After having paid for her wand, they both stepped back onto the street. Sarah happily tucked her new wand away inside her robes. She was glad she had it, even if she hadn't the faintest clue of how to use it. They began to walk back toward where they had entered Diagon Alley.

They soon neared _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_ once again. As they drew closer, Sarah recognized it and began eyeing it hopefully. This did not go unnoticed by Snape. He sighed to himself. Not knowing what had possessed him to do it, he crossed to the side of the street that the shop was on, Sarah following after him. When they reached it, he opened the door. He watched as the girl stood there, looking at him confusedly.

"Well? Didn't you want to go inside?" he asked impatiently.

Sarah's face brightened into a smile and she quickly went inside, Snape closing the door after her. He remained standing outside of the shop. His name having been cleared, and explaining his own actions to the man himself, Snape had been forgiven for the incident with George's ear. Despite this, Snape still felt some guilt, and did not feel entirely comfortable in his presence. A short while later, during which Sarah browsed through the fascinating items and promised the shop's friendly one-eared proprietor that she would return, she joined Snape outside.

They made one additional stop inside the Apothecary. Sarah watched as Snape purchased strange things that she had never heard of. She found the shop interesting, but it had an unpleasant smell. Snape explained that this shop sold many ingredients which were used in potions, like the ones she had drank.

Once they had returned to the Muggle street outside of the pub, Snape began his same hurried pace back toward the dark alley that they had Apparated into. Sarah hurried after him, walking a bit unsteadily, unused to her new shoes. Trying to keep up with his pace, she did not notice the large crack in the pavement which she stumbled over. She gasped, falling forward, closing her eyes as she anticipated hitting the hard ground below.

Instead of connecting with pavement, she found herself up against robes and a very hard, lean chest which she had felt once before. Breathing in that same pleasant scent, she opened her eyes. Snape had caught her before she had fallen. He placed his hands on her shoulders and distanced her from him, steadying her. He had an impatient look on his face. Turning, he continued on his way. Sarah followed.

When they reached the alleyway, Snape again held out his arm for the girl.

"Thank you," she said, thanking him for many things at once.

"You are welcome," he said softly, just before turning on the spot and pulling them both into nothingness.


	6. Midnight Connection

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 6: Midnight Connection.

* * *

For some reason, Snape had been caught slightly off guard by the girl's thank-you and her proximity to him. Having not been entirely focused as he Apparated them, they ended up on the opposite side of the castle than he had intended, just inside the Forbidden Forest. They would have to take a bit of a walk to get back around to the school's entrance. Not bothering to explain what had happened, he began to walk, though at a significantly less hurried pace than he had been all morning. Sarah followed after him quietly.

Some of the day's cloudiness had cleared up, and the sun was occasionally peeking out from time to time. It was still quite chilly, but it had warmed up a bit, and Sarah found that she was very comfortable in her new robes. As they walked, the wind picked up and was gusting gently. Sarah, following Snape closely, could see the large scar on the right side of his neck as the wind blew his hair back. Noticing that he had relaxed his pace, she moved to walk next to him. She half expected him to speed up again to get away from her, but was pleased when he did not. They walked alongside each other in silence. Snape's eyes were fixed on the castle as they approached it, and he did not see the girl casting surreptitious glances at his neck.

After a time, she cleared her throat quietly. His black eyes darted to her for a split second and then shifted back ahead.

"What gave you that scar on your neck?" she asked quietly. She really didn't even expect him to reply.

Snape's eyes darted to the girl at his side again, rasing an eyebrow at her. He then looked back ahead. Several moments of silence passed.

"I'm sorry," Sarah said quietly. She directed her eyes downward to her feet as she walked along, blushing slightly. She thought that she had overstepped whatever bounds there were between them, and asked him too personal a question.

Sighing resignedly, Snape entertained the girl's curiosity.

"I was bitten by a snake," he replied.

Sarah's eyes widened when Snape had answered. She glanced back up at the scar on his neck, looking astonished. To her, it looked more like he had been bitten by a bear, at least.

"That must have been one hell of a big snake!" she exclaimed. She then looked as if she were nervously scanning the ground around them as they walked. "I didn't think there even _were_ snakes here."

Snape smirked, observing the girl's actions.

"It was quite large, yes," he replied, recalling Nagini. "I was very nearly killed." Snape hoped that she would not continue asking questions about it; it would require too much effort and too long a story that the girl would not understand. He knew that the girl wouldn't have the faintest idea who Voldemort had been, or be able to understand how a phoenix's tears had saved him from the brink of death.

Thankfully for him, a distraction came in the form of several figures in the distance flying on brooms. This little walk of theirs had taken them near the Quidditch pitch. Sarah gasped when she saw them. She had no idea what they were doing, but they were flying through the air at high speeds, making graceful dives and pulling up again. She then wordlessly looked to Snape for an explanation.

"Brooms," he replied. "And they're playing Quidditch, a wizard's sport played on brooms," he supplied, anticipating her next question. "Each of the school's Houses has a team. And _please_ refrain from asking me how it is played. It would take far too long to explain."

They continued to walk in silence, almost at the school. Sarah continued watching the Quidditch players with interest. After a while, she turned to Snape again.

"You're a Professor," she commented idly. Snape smirked and was about to compliment the girl on her brilliant powers of deduction when she asked, "What do you teach?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," he replied.

Sarah nodded a couple times in reply. She was fairly certain that she could safely assume what that subject was without any prior knowledge. _He certainly does seem to be the right person to be teaching people to defend themselves from __**dark**__ stuff,_ she thought to herself.

When they had reached the castle, Snape proceeded to lead the girl back up to the hospital wing, where he knew Minerva would be waiting for them.

* * *

High up above the Quidditch pitch, Harry was circling around, keeping an eye on the rest of his team as they ran drills below him. Quickly growing bored of their repetitive movements, Harry braked in the air. He let his eyes wander across the landscape; they widened when they fell upon a pair of people walking toward the school, passing near the pitch. Thinking it strange for a pair of people to be walking out of the forest and up toward the school in the middle of the day, Harry dropped his altitude a bit to get a closer look. Squinting, he was able to make out the forms of Snape, and a girl with very long hair walking beside him.

_"Snape?"_ he said aloud to himself. "What's she doing with _Snape?_"

Harry lowered his altitude a little more, getting an even closer look. It was the girl that he had seen in the hospital wing yesterday, as he had already assumed. Instead of Muggle clothing, however, she was now dressed in a pair of casual robes and carrying a bag at her side. Snape was dressed in his usual black attire with a traveling cloak over his robes, his lank black hair blowing slightly in the wind.

Harry had still been wondering about the girl who hadn't recognized him, and he wanted to find out why. Using the Marauder's Map, he was able to find out that her name was Sarah Garrend, but any more than that he did not know. It now looked as if she had gone somewhere with, of all people, Snape. If she were truly quite injured, or suffering from some sort of memory loss as Hermione had suggested, Harry doubted that Madam Pomfrey would have allowed her to leave the hospital wing. He watched them curiously until he lost sight of them.

Still staring out into the distance, Harry thought to himself. He was curious to find out more about this girl, and to find out why she hadn't known Harry Potter when she had seen him. He doubted that there was a single witch or wizard alive anywhere who didn't know his name and his scar, especially after having defeated Voldemort for good. _There's only one way to find out more_, he thought. He would ask her himself. Turning back toward his teammates, he decided that his precious Hallow had been gathering far too much dust lately, and that it was time to put it to use again.

* * *

Professor McGonagall was indeed awaiting their arrival in the hospital wing, as Snape had assumed. She was pleased to see that the girl now looked like a witch instead of a Muggle. Hurrying inside to greet her, Sarah had set her bag full of clothes down on her bed and began rattling off excitedly about everything she had seen while in Diagon Alley. Snape remained standing near the doors and folded his arms over his chest. McGonagall had glanced at him when she had found out that Sarah had been allowed a short stop inside the joke shop, one side of her mouth curled up in a little smile. Snape glared.

"Yes, dear," said McGonagall, laughing a little and trying to calm the excited girl, "I assure you I that have seen goblins before, and even Apparated! Now, did you get a wand?"

Sarah nodded and drew her wand out from inside her robes.

"The man at the shop said it was ten and a half inches, oak and chimaera scale," said Sarah, holding her wand out to McGonagall. She took it in her own hands, inspecting it.

"Excellent," said McGonagall, looking the wand over. "Now we come to the issue of _using_ it, which I am afraid you do not know how to do." She handed the wand back to Sarah, who nodded sadly.

"Don't worry, dear. We can soon fix that. Severus?" McGonagall called. Snape moved away from the doors and approached the two.

"Yes, Minerva?"

"It goes without saying that Miss Garrend is far too old to first be enrolling at Hogwarts," she began. "I think, therefore, that she should be given some private tutoring, to teach her the basics of magic to an acceptable level for her age."

Snape glared darkly at her. He was about to become very, very angry if this conversation was headed in the direction he feared it was.

"As she has already said herself, she hasn't a family, and I see no reason against allowing her to stay here for a while to enable her to learn. This is, after all, a place of learning," McGonagall continued. "This is absolutely necessary if she wishes to become a part of Wizarding society."

Sarah nodded vigorously. She had absolutely no desire to return to the Muggle world now, not after all she had seen and learned, and she had barely scratched the surface. The prospect of living in the magical world seemed to present boundless opportunities to her.

"Then what do you suggest, Minerva?" Snape asked rhetorically, his voice dripping with resentment.

"As I currently have my hands quite full teaching Transfiguration as well as filling the post of Headmistress, I unfortunately cannot take on the extra responsibility at the present time," she said. She then smiled at Snape. "You, however, can."

"_Can_ and _will_ are two completely separate things, Minerva," Snape replied.

Sarah looked from one Professor to the other with interest.

"You _will_ be tutoring this girl, Severus," McGonagall replied sternly. "We have already discussed the necessity of her learning to use a wand. The extra hours will of course be reflected in your salary."

Snape remained silent. There was no point in arguing with her; he had tried to do so enough times to learn when not to bother. He could tell this was one of those times. At least he would be getting a bonus for it, he thought. The girl did need to learn a lot in order to become a proper witch, and be able to integrate successfully into her new world. This included learning more much more than spells, too. He did not think the girl incapable of learning magic. Quite the opposite. This did not mean, however, that he wanted his office or study to be blown apart in the process.

"I should be able to take her at seven in the evening on weekdays," he sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Lovely," said McGonagall, smiling. She had expected him to put up more of a fight. Perhaps taking the girl to Diagon Alley had acclimated him to her presence. "Then your lessons will begin on Monday, Miss Garrend."

Sarah looked as absolutely ecstatic as a first year entering the castle for their very first time.

"In the meantime," McGonagall continued, "Tomorrow, we shall see about some more appropriate lodging for you. I don't think you would fancy the idea of living in the hospital wing. You should feel free to explore the castle and the grounds. Do not, however, explore trying to do anything with _that_ just yet," she said, nodding at the wand in the girl's hand.

"I won't," Sarah replied. "I can't thank you enough, really. I can pay you back once I-,"

"No trouble at all, dear," said McGonagall, cutting short Sarah's offer to reimburse her. She really didn't mind at all. "It was the least I could do."

Sarah had thanked McGonagall many, many more times before she had finally left the hospital wing with Snape, promising again to see to a more appropriate place to stay. Sarah then spent the rest of the day strolling boredly around the hospital wing, twirling her wand in her fingers and wondering about the amazing things she might learn to do with it.

* * *

Sarah awoke in the middle of the night. She had been tossing and turning restlessly. Her mind was racing with excitement and anticipation about her upcoming lessons. After lying awake for a while longer, she finally sat up. She was too restless and excited to sleep. Despite McGonagall's assurance that she could explore the castle, she had not yet left the hospital wing on her own. She had been given a good impression of the castle's size when Snape had guided her in and out of it. If she tried to explore on her own, she was almost certain that she would get herself hopelessly lost in the castle's long, winding, endless corridors and levels.

Giving up entirely on sleep, she slid out of bed. She was wearing the comfortable robes she had bought to use as pajamas, and the stone floor was cold on her feet. The hospital wing was almost completely dark. The night outside had grown to be completely clear, and pale moonlight was seeping in through the high windows. She walked a few laps around the room before coming to stand in front of the doors. Not being able to see the harm in it, she decided that she would explore the single corridor right outside in an effort to assuage some of her excitement. Pushing open one of the doors only as much as was necessary, she slipped out.

She closed the door behind her as quietly as she could, its soft creaking echoing through the hall. She then turned to face the empty corridor. It was as dark as the hospital wing had been, with the same pale moonlight coming through the windows. There was a small staircase to her left that led downward, and the corridor continued on ahead. She couldn't possibly get lost if she only went to the end of the corridor and back, she thought. She began walking slowly.

As she went, she took her time in examining some of the suits of armor that lined the wall. One of them was extremely dented, and some others had chinks in them as well. There were also several ornate-looking tapestries hanging between some of them, depicting creatures that Sarah thought only to exist in her dreams. Here though, she knew, they were probably quite real. It was completely silent except for the very faint sound of her bare footsteps on the stone.

After a few minutes, she came to a point where another corridor intersected with the one she was currently in. She glanced around, unable to tell where either might lead. She probably wouldn't even be able to find her way back out of the castle the way Snape had taken her, even if she had wanted to. Sighing and wishing that Hogwarts were not so very huge, she turned to start heading back toward the hospital wing when something caught her eye.

Quickly looking back down one of the other corridors, her breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened; drifting along the hall was an almost transparent being, glowing slightly in the darkness, completely white. Sarah stood rooted to the spot as she watched the ghost. She was a tall, beautiful, sad-looking young woman in a long, flowing dress. Anyone else at Hogwarts knew better than to be frightened of the school's ghosts, save for maybe the Bloody Baron. Sarah, however, had never seen anything of the sort. Terrified as the ghost drew closer, she ran.

Sarah was now sprinting back down the corridor toward the hospital wing, quite scared by what she had just seen. Everything about the magical world was new and a bit of a shock to her, but she had adjusted well so far. She had seen a house-elf and goblins. She had not, however, been expecting to see ghosts. Her feet slapping against the stone echoed through the hall as she ran.

Before she could reach the doors, however, she collided with something quite solid and quite invisible. Gasping loudly, she fell back onto the hard stone, scrambling backwards along the floor in a panic. Being quite terrified and not knowing what else to do, she quickly reached inside her robes and withdrew her wand, slashing it through the air aimlessly in the direction of whatever she had just collided with.

Harry felt as if a solid, invisible wall of force had collided with him. Quite literally lifted off his feet, he was thrown back a small distance and landed hard on the floor, the air knocked out of his lungs. His glasses tumbled to the floor. He hadn't quite been expecting _that_.

"Easy!" he managed to croak out. Sitting up, he threw off his invisibility cloak and held up his hands. "I'm not going to hurt you!"

Having been expecting another ghost, Sarah was surprised to see a young man emerge out of nothingness several feet in front of her. Still nervous, she was still sitting on the floor, holding out her wand toward him. Her hand was trembling. Harry retrieved his glasses and stood up, placing them back on his face. He then pulled out his own wand.

_"Lumos,"_ he said, pointing it in the direction of the girl.

The corridor was immediately illuminated with the strange white light that Sarah had first seen while she was lying injured on the steps of the castle. The light brought into her view the same untidy-haired young man with the lightening shaped scar that she had seen before in the hospital wing. Sarah lowered her wand as he approached her, wishing somewhere in the back of her mind that she herself knew how to produce that light.

"Sorry about that," said Harry, looking down at the frightened girl and extending his hand toward her. "Looks like I gave you a bit of a fright."

Taking Harry's hand, Sarah was lifted to her feet. She took a deep, shaky breath and dusted her robes off.

"Are you alright?" asked Harry, looking her over. He couldn't see any of the scratches or bruises that he had seen on her previously.

"Yeah, you?" asked Sarah.

"I'm alright," said Harry. "You threw me back a bit though. What were you running from?"

"I think I saw a ghost," said Sarah. She still didn't quite believe what she had seen.

Harry quirked a brow at her. She hadn't recognized his scar, and now she was frightened of seeing ghosts around Hogwarts? Something was very strange about this girl.

"How were you invisible like that?" Sarah asked. "I couldn't see you at all when I hit you. That's why I took my wand out. I was really scared. I wouldn't have if I had known someone was there."

Harry turned and gathered up the cloak from the floor.

"Invisibility cloak," he said, holding it out to her so she could feel its silky material.

"Wow," she whispered softly. After examining it for a few moments, she spoke again. "What were you doing sneaking around here? Aren't you a student?"

"Yeah, but we're not supposed to be out of our common rooms after curfew," Harry explained. "I was coming to see _you_, actually," he said, smiling at the girl.

Sarah looked confused.

"Come on," said Harry, "I'll explain inside. We don't want Filch to catch us. _Nox._" The light disappeared from his wand.

Together they walked back toward the hospital wing and entered quietly. Casting a _Muffliato_ in the direction of Madam Pomfrey's quarters, Harry walked with Sarah toward the bed she had been staying in.

"We didn't really get to properly introduce ourselves when we met yesterday," Harry began, extending his hand toward Sarah. "Harry Potter."

Sarah shook his hand, smiling.

"Sarah Garrend," she said.

Harry watched Sarah's reaction as he told her his name; she seemed completely unfazed.

"I can tell you're not from around here," Harry said conversationally.

"You're right," said Sarah, sitting down on the side of her bed. Harry sat down on the bed opposite her, pointing his wand at the sconce on the wall above them. It lit itself and glowed dimly, giving them a little light. "I'm from America."

Harry nodded. He had already assumed this much, but it still did not adequately explain why she did not know who Harry Potter was.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I'm still not quite sure about that myself," Sarah replied. "I'm a bit new to all of this, I'm afraid."

Harry furrowed his brows at her.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I sort of just _ended up_ here, accidentally," said Sarah. "Well, it was more luck than accident, I guess. I didn't know that I was a witch until just the other night."

Harry's eyes widened. It was extremely odd, but that would certainly explain it.

For the next fifteen minutes or so, Harry sat and listened intently to Sarah's story of being lost in the forest and set upon by Centaurs, only narrowly escaping. This would certainly explain the torn clothing, as well as the scratches and bruises that Harry had seen her with. And the fact that she hadn't known that she was a witch would certainly explain her not recognizing him and her fear of the ghost. It was, however, extremely strange.

"That's really weird," Harry said at last, "I wonder why no one ever came to you."

"Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape seemed to think it was weird too."

Sarah then proceeded to tell him of her lack of parents, Harry listening raptly. He could definitely identify with her. She told him of her childhood incident with the tree as well.

"They thought maybe they just lost track of me," Sarah explained, "Or thought I had died with my parents."

"Could be," Harry nodded in agreement, but he did not completely agree. He knew, from the sound of things, that her incident with the tree had been covered up quite well, and quite quickly. That had to mean that there were witches and wizards nearby, perhaps even watching her. That, coupled with what she had told Harry of doing, struck him as extremely odd. He had performed unintentional magic without a wand before, accidentally setting a snake on his cousin and blowing up his aunt, but never anything of the magnitude that Sarah described. He had never made a tree attack anyone, burned someone with his bare hands, or managed the seemingly impossible feat of somehow slowing time. Harry had been correct in his assumptions; there was definitely more to this girl that meets the eye.

"It's a good thing you _did_ end up here, at any rate," said Harry, smiling at her. There was still another thing that he was quite curious about.

"I saw you walking earlier, with Professor Snape," he said, deciding to omit the words 'Quidditch practice' and 'Quidditch pitch', assuming she would not understand them. After learning the truth about his actions and seeing his memories, Harry could finally afford him the respect of calling him 'Professor Snape' instead of just 'Snape'. He had a great respect for the man now, but it wasn't as if Harry was buying him flowers. The animosity between the two still remained, and their relationship with each other had changed little.

"Oh yeah," said Sarah, smiling. "He took me to a place called Diagon Alley. That's where I got my robes and my wand."

Harry nearly snorted with laughter. He couldn't imagine a less likely person to volunteer taking a newfound witch on a shopping trip to Diagon Alley. Harry had thoroughly enjoyed his very first trip to Diagon Alley with Hagrid as his guide, nearly stopping in every shop, and taking his time to enjoy all the new sights. He could imagine what the trip probably would have been like with Snape instead of Hagrid.

"I'll bet he was a total git about it," Harry said.

"He was pretty angry about it, yeah," said Sarah. "Professor McGonagall made him take me, I think. I don't think he wanted to at all. He wasn't really so bad though. He let me borrow his cloak when I got really cold, and even let me look inside the joke shop."

_Okay,_ Harry thought to himself, _**now**__ things are getting a little __**too**__ strange._

She then explained what else McGonagall had volunteered him for on her behalf. She told Harry how she would be taking lessons with him in order to learn the rudimentary magic that she should have been taught years ago. Remembering his own private lessons with the man, Harry sincerely wished her luck at this, hoping she would be more successful at being his student one-on-one than he had been. Harry knew that things would probably be fine, though; Sarah had no pre-existing enmity with him, or any knowledge of his horrid reputation.

The two continued chatting for a while. Harry explained to her about the school's ghosts, and the way the House system worked. Deciding not to overwhelm her with it, he spared her his life's story and the tales of his fame. He would have time to explain it to her later, once she had a better understanding of the Wizarding world. She might even come to learn it for herself before he told her anything.

He even gave her a quick rundown on Quidditch. Harry _always_ enjoyed talking Quidditch. He found it amusing to explain the game to someone who had never heard of it before.

"We're playing Ravenclaw tomorrow, you should come and watch the match!" Harry told her excitedly. "Then you can really understand how it's played."

Sarah looked thrilled.

"I hope I can," she said, "Professor McGonagall said she was going to see about finding me a different place to stay tomorrow, so I don't have to stay in the hospital wing anymore."

Harry thought quietly to himself, wondering where else she could possibly stay. As far as he knew, the castle did not have any guest's quarters... unless...

"I've got just the thing," he said, sounding excited and leaping to his feet. "I'll go and see her about it tomorrow, I'm sure she'll approve."

Sarah looked at him confusedly.

"You'll see," he said simply. "Don't worry about it. And I'll have my friend Hermione take you to the match. She doesn't like Quidditch very much, but she comes to see us play. I'm sure she won't mind taking you."

Sarah smiled brightly at him. Only a little while ago, she had felt very alone and isolated in this big new place. She didn't know anyone except three of the staff members. Now that Harry had quite literally bumped into her, however, she was extremely glad to have made a friend, with the happy prospect of making more.

"Thanks a lot, Harry," she said, standing as well. "I'm really glad you came, even if you did scare the living daylights out of me at first. I'm sort of alone here."

"I understand completely, believe me," he said. He was glad that he had come as well. He had discovered why Sarah hadn't known who he was, as he had been hoping to, but now an entire new plethora of questions had surfaced. All of her circumstances were extremely strange, and he intended to find out more about it if he could. Why hadn't she been brought into the Wizarding world, when it was very clear that she must have been recognized as a witch, and even watched somehow? Why had the Centaurs, usually docile unless provoked, openly attacked her? How had she managed to perform such extraordinary magic without even intending to?

Aside from all that, however, he was genuinely glad to have met her. He was sure Ron and Hermione would be, too. Bidding his new friend goodnight, and assuring her that she would see him tomorrow, he put out the sconce and quietly left the hospital wing under his invisibility cloak.

Sarah lay awake in bed for some time after Harry had left. On top of everything else she was already excited about, she was now excited about seeing her first Quidditch match tomorrow. She was also excited about meeting Harry's friends. She reflected on how her life had changed so very drastically over the course of the last few days. She was now making new friends, she hoped, and an entire new world of fascinating possibilities had opened up to her.

She tossed and turned for a while longer, quite convinced that she was possibly too excited to ever be able to sleep again.


	7. True Colors

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 7: True Colors.

* * *

The following day, about an hour before the Quidditch match, Sarah was being led someplace within the castle by Professor McGonagall and Harry. Having been less than pleased to find out that Harry had gone to see the girl in secret, she was nonetheless glad that he had come up with a possible solution to her lodging problem. Harry had explained to her how he met the girl, and grew curious about her when she didn't know who he was. It was this that had prompted him to visit her in secret.

Through talking to Sarah, Harry now knew just about as much as McGonagall did about the entire strange situation. They had agreed between them that it was fine to tell Ron and Hermione about her, and even Ginny, but to anyone else who asked, she was an exchange student from America who had come to study at Hogwarts. That wasn't too far from the truth, after all. Harry had then explained his idea to McGonagall. Beginning to be at a loss for what exactly to do, she had approved.

The three of them arrived in the seventh floor corridor. One stretch of wall was completely blank, and the other had a large tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to ballet. McGonagall had heard of the room before, after the incident back in Harry's fifth year. Not knowing how the magic of the room worked herself, she looked to Harry.

"Alright," said Harry confidently, "Just stand back and watch. Hopefully it'll still work," Harry had been concerned that the room would no longer function after it had been ravaged by the cursed fiendfyre. Now he was going to find out.

He strode forward and paced back and forth in front of the blank stretch of wall several times. Sarah watched him, extremely confused. Harry closed his eyes, thinking hard. _I need a place for Sarah to stay, I need a place for Sarah to stay,_ he repeated over and over again in his mind.

After only a few moments, a medium-sized, ornately carved door materialized on the blank stretch of wall. Harry turned and smiled brightly at Sarah and McGonagall. Sarah had raised her eyebrows as she inspected the newly appeared door, and McGonagall gave Harry a small smile in return. It had worked.

"Well," said Harry, motioning toward the door. "Come have a look!"

McGonagall urging her forward, Sarah slowly approached the door and placed her hand upon the knob. Turning it, she softly pushed the door open.

The door swung in to reveal a modestly sized bedroom. It was furnished quite nicely. Sarah rushed in to investigate. There was a double sized bed with a night stand beside it in the far left corner. To the right of this, there was a large book case, containing a wide array of textbooks about basic magic and other things which Sarah would need to learn about. Against the wall near the foot of the bed there was a nicely sized wardrobe, which Sarah discovered to be full of the same type of casual robes that she had bought in Diagon Alley, along with several pairs of Muggle jeans, sneakers, and the hiking boots she favored. The wall opposite the wardrobe bore a large fireplace, currently unlit, with two comfortable-looking chairs facing it.

The stone floor in the middle of the room was adorned with a large, plush carpet. In the far right corner of the room, along the same wall as the fireplace, there was another door. Sarah discovered this to lead into a small adjoining bathroom with all of the amenities she could possibly need. There were no enchanted windows within the small dormitory, but there were several brightly-lit sconces on the walls, as well as a chandelier suspended from the moderately high ceiling. They flooded the room with warm light.

Harry stepped inside after her, followed by Professor McGonagall. He was pleased to see that the room still worked. It appeared to be completely fine except for smelling faintly of ash.

"It's called the Room of Requirement," Harry explained, watching Sarah as she excitedly explored her new room. "It can become anything you need it to be, and seeing as you needed a place to stay, I thought this might be the perfect solution."

"It certainly looks like it!" Sarah replied, plopping down on the bed to test its softness. Staying here would be _much_ nicer than staying in the hospital wing.

"Once we leave, the door will disappear, so anyone else can't just get in without knowing what's here," Harry continued. "When you want to come back, just come up to this same corridor. You'll have to pace back and forth in front of the wall where you know your room is, and think something like 'I need to get back into my room'. Just say that again and again in your head while walking back and forth in front of the wall, and the door should appear for you."

"Well done, Potter," McGonagall commented, inspecting the well-appointed room. "This certainly solves our problem. One of them, at least."

"Thanks a lot, Harry," Sarah smiled up at him.

"No trouble at all," he said. He then turned to McGonagall. "Professor, would it be alright for Sarah to come down and see the Quidditch match?"

"Of course," said McGonagall, "She is welcome to go wherever she likes. Just remember what we discussed, Mr. Potter. And please explain that to her as well."

The three of them exiting the room, Professor McGonagall headed away back toward her office. Harry began taking Sarah down a different route that would lead them down to the Quidditch pitch. Sarah was pleased to stroll through the halls at a more leisurely pace during daylight. She made sure to remember as many details as she could, and attempted to memorize the way in which they were going. She was determined not to become lost while trying to get back to where her room was. She looked over the suits of armor, trying to identify unique dents in them, and she eyed the moving portraits carefully, trying to remember their locations.

"That won't do you much good," said Harry, watching her as she observed her surroundings in an attempt to memorize them, "Not with the portraits at least. They can move around, you see. Into different portraits." He then pointed toward a portrait of a grizzly looking old wizard with an eyepatch. "That bloke there, you might see him in a completely different place tomorrow. It might just get you more lost."

"Oh no," Sarah groaned, "This place is so huge. I'm going to be so lost. I'm probably going to end up sleeping in the middle of a hallway somewhere when I can't find my way back to that nice room you fixed up for me."

Harry laughed.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it. It just takes some time." He decided that now was not a particularly good time to inform her about the staircases in some parts of the castle which moved to rearrange themselves occasionally, or that had trick steps which vanished as soon as someone tried to step on them. They would cross that bridge when they came to it.

"What was McGonagall talking about before?" Sarah asked. "What did she want you to explain to me?"

"Oh yeah," said Harry. "I told her about how I met you, and everything you told me. I've already explained about you to my two best friends and my girlfriend, but Professor McGonagall reckons that we should tell anyone else who asks that you're just a student from America who's come to Hogwarts to study abroad. That way they won't ask too many questions about you."

Sarah nodded in understanding. She already knew that it was extremely odd for her to have turned up at Hogwarts and discovered that she was a witch. Harry also knew this to be the case, on top of all the other mysterious circumstances surrounding her.

"Your friends know, though?" she asked.

"Yeah, I've already explained it all to them," said Harry. "Don't worry, they're actually quite good at keeping secrets." Ron and Hermione, after all, had been the only two people aside from Harry that knew about the Horcruxes. He knew, as did McGonagall, that they could be trusted with just about anything. He knew he could also trust Ginny. It would have been hard to keep something like this from her, when they were all so close.

A short while later, Harry and Sarah had exited the school and began walking down toward the Quidditch pitch. There was still a bit of time before the match, and a thin stream of students had begun trickling out from the school to get seats ahead of time. Sarah looked them over as she walked. Some students were decked out in blue and bronze, while others were sporting scarlet and gold. Harry having explained the school's Houses to her, she understood that the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students were coming to the match wearing their House colors to cheer on their teams.

Noticing a small group of students wearing different colors, she turned to Harry.

"I thought the match was between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw?" she asked, pointing at a group of students who were wearing green and silver.

"Oh yeah," he said, "Those will be the Slytherins. They're just here to boo us. Students from Slytherin and Gryffindor don't really get along very well. I guess you could say they're our rival House. Long story."

"That's Professor Snape's House, isn't it?" Sarah asked.

"That's the one," Harry replied, sounding dark. Sarah thought she could begin seeing why Harry seemed to not like Professor Snape very much.

"It must be a big deal when Gryffindor plays Slytherin then, I bet," she said.

"You had better believe it," Harry laughed a bit. "Vicious games, those are. This game shouldn't be so bad though. The Ravenclaws are good sports, we've got nothing against them."

Drawing closer to the Quidditch pitch, Harry pointed on ahead at two students standing some distance away, conversing with each other. They were also sporting scarlet and gold.

"There they are," Harry said, waving to them. "I told them to wait for us here. Come and meet them," he said enthusiastically, taking Sarah's shoulder and pulling her toward his friends.

The two of them turned to Harry and Sarah as they approached. Sarah could see a tall, lanky young man with bright red hair. Standing next to him was a witch with bushy brown hair, wearing a scarf of scarlet and gold, and looking much shorter by comparison. They smiled and waved to Harry, who was pulling Sarah along with him.

For the first time she could remember, Sarah was slightly nervous about meeting new people, and that was saying a lot. She had moved from place to place when she was a child, always in different schools, and had grown quite used to it. After arriving here, however, it seemed as if she had started completely fresh, and all these sensations were new to her. It seemed as if she had built a fast friendship with Harry, but she had quite literally stumbled into it by accident. She was actually a bit hesitant as Harry drew her up to where Ron and Hermione stood.

"Hey, mate," said Ron. He nodded at Harry, and then looked to the witch at Harry's side. She was slightly shorter than Harry, making her several inches shorter than himself. Her eyes were dark brown, and she had flowing brown hair, which was very long and very straight. This was quite a contrast to Hermione's bushy mane. She was dressed in casual-looking black robes which looked very much like school robes, except lacking a House crest. Despite the strange stories Harry had told about her, she seemed to be a normal enough witch, at least in appearance. She also looked a bit nervous.

"Ron Weasley," said Ron warmly, smiling, and extending his large right hand toward the girl. She extended her own and shook it.

"Sarah Garrend," she said, smiling back at him. She was happy to have received such a warm greeting, and her nerves calmed significantly.

"This is Hermione," said Ron, throwing his arm around Hermione's shoulders and hugging her close.

Hermione extended her hand toward Sarah, who shook it.

"Hermione Granger," she said, "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Sarah smiled.

"Well, now that we're all introduced," Harry said. He was quite happy that his friends seemed to have received Sarah so well. "Ron and I have got to go and get changed. You girls go and find yourselves some good seats, and we'll meet you back here after the match, alright?"

Harry and Ron left after Hermione and Sarah had wished them both good luck.

"Here," said Hermione, reaching inside her robes. She then pulled out a scarf of scarlet and gold like the one she wore, though it was slightly more faded and worn. "I brought one of my old scarves for you. You _will_ be cheering for Gryffindor, I hope."

"Of course," Sarah replied. She smiled warmly, taking the scarf and wrapping it about her neck.

"Well now you look it!" Hermione said, nodding in approval as Sarah donned the Gryffindor scarf. "You can't cheer on Gryffindor without wearing any Gryffindor colors. People might think you're a Slytherin or something."

Hermione did honestly want Sarah to cheer for Gryffindor, but this was not the only reason why she had thought it was a good idea to give her the scarf. Harry had explained Sarah's situation fully to her, or at least as much as he knew about it. Hermione, sharp as ever, immediately recognized that something was very off about the entire thing. She had agreed to tell anyone who asked that Sarah was simply a student from America studying abroad. Hermione thought that having Sarah wear Gryffindor colors was a good way to have them not even ask questions in the first place. This way, she would blend right into the crowd.

The girls continued down to the pitch, chatting away. Sarah told Hermione all about her uncouth meeting with Harry in the middle of the night, after having been frightened by one of the school's ghosts. Hermione giggled at this, the idea of anyone being frightened of the Grey Lady quite amusing to her. Sarah also told Hermione of Harry's brilliant idea to have her stay in the Room of Requirement.

"It still works, then?" Hermione asked. She had been wondering the same thing as Harry had, about whether or not the room would still function after the fiendfyre fiasco.

"Yeah, why wouldn't it?" Sarah asked, confused. "It does smell a little bit like something is burning, though."

Hermione laughed.

"Yes, it might," she said. "There was a fire in there, of sorts. Earlier this year."

"Well I'm glad it still works," Sarah said, "It sure made up a great room for me. _Much_ nicer than having to stay in the hospital wing."

"I would think so," Hermione laughed. "Do you know how Quidditch is played?" she asked, looking up at the tall goalposts as they approached the seats.

"Sort of, yeah," Sarah replied. "Harry gave me a quick explanation of it last night. I think I got the gist of it. I can't wait to actually see it, though."

"That's a relief," Hermione said. She didn't think that she could possibly explain all the game's complicated rules and fouls.

"Hermione!" came a call from behind them.

Sarah turned around to see two witches approaching them. One of them was rather small in stature, with long red hair, and wearing a Gryffindor scarf. The other, wearing a Ravenclaw scarf, had bright blonde hair and a serene smile on her face. The blonde-haired witch had her wand tucked behind her left ear which, like its twin, was adorned with a radish.

"Hi Ginny, Luna," said Hermione, greeting them.

Ginny looked Sarah over. She had been given the same explanation about her as Ron and Hermione had, as well as the instructions to tell anyone who asked that she was simply studying abroad.

"You must be Sarah," said Ginny, smiling at the girl and shaking her hand. "Ginny Weasley."

_Red hair. Weasley_, Sarah thought to herself, making the connection.

"Ron's sister?" Sarah asked, smiling back. "I've just met him."

"That's right," said Ginny. "Glad you could come out to the match. I've got to go and get changed now, just wanted to say hello. Nice to meet you, Sarah," she said, waving, and then hurried off to where the rest of the team would be preparing.

"Sarah, Sarah...," said Luna, looking contemplative as she considered Sarah's name. "I've never heard of you before. My name is Luna Lovegood," she said, shaking Sarah's hand. "Are you new here?"

"I'm-," Sarah began, but Hermione got there first.

"She's a student from America, studying abroad," Hermione explained rapidly.

"Oooh, America," sighed Luna, looking at Sarah dreamily. "Daddy tells me that Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are positively abundant in America, unlike here where they are quite rare."

"Erm...,"

"Look over there, Luna, I've just spotted us some excellent seats. Let's go sit down," said Hermione, diffusing the confusing situation for Sarah, and motioning toward the seats.

Sarah had an excellent time watching the Quidditch match with Hermione and Luna. Whenever she became confused, the other girls would bring her up to speed. Sarah was able to pass off her lack of Quidditch knowledge to Luna by telling her that she came from a part of America where Quidditch was virtually non-existent.

After the match, which Gryffindor had won two-hundred-and-ten to one hundred, Hermione and Sarah headed back toward where Harry said he would meet them. On the way, Hermione hastily explained Luna's unique nature to Sarah. Sarah came to understand that the reason she did not understand much of what Luna talked about had nothing to do with the fact that she had only been a witch for the past few days. Regardless, Luna had been very nice, and Sarah was glad to have met her. She had been quite amused with her fantastical stories.

Having obtained permission from Professor McGonagall, Sarah was able to join Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room for the afternoon. She had also agreed that it was a good idea for Sarah to continue wearing Gryffindor colors, and immediately emblazoned the front of Sarah's robes with the Gryffindor crest. After doing this, Sarah was also told the password to give to the Fat Lady, and granted permission to join her new friends in there whenever she liked. It would appear much more normal for her to easily blend into one of the school's Houses.

McGonagall had to admit that she was now glad of Harry's predisposition to snooping around. She was quite happy with the results it had produced. Blending into one of the school's Houses would deflect a great amount of suspicion from the girl. Most importantly, McGonagall realized, having friends here would be a great asset to Sarah for reasons manifold.

With the help of her new friends, Sarah was able to begin learning her way around the castle a bit better. Even though she was still quite daunted by the castle in its entirety, she quickly memorized the two routes that she would be using quite frequently. When it was time for Sarah to return to her seventh floor corridor, she was now fairly confident that she could find her way from her room to the Great Hall, as well as the Gryffindor common room, and back again. If she were asked to go anywhere else, however, she was fairly certain she would get lost. She doubted she could even find her way back to the hospital wing yet.

This was something she would have to be sure and ask Harry tomorrow, she thought, stepping inside her room and shutting the door. Knowing it had grown dark, he had been kind enough to offer to walk Sarah back to the Room of Requirement to make absolutely sure she didn't get lost in the absence of daylight. He had also demonstrated the room's magic once again, summoning the door for her.

Not knowing how to put them out herself, Sarah got into bed with the sconces still burning. This was the same reason the fireplace remained unlit. She was quite eager to learn how to handle these simple tasks on her own.

Just as she thought this, however, the sconces extinguished themselves and the fireplace lit. Startled, she shot up in bed, thinking that someone else had entered her room. She found it to be completely empty. Recalling what Harry had said about the room, she realized that it had probably sensed her need to put out the lights and ignite the fireplace.

Amazed, she lay back down in bed. She was quite exhausted from an eventful day full of meeting new people.

* * *

Sarah spent the majority of her Monday visiting in the Gryffindor common room with her new friends between their classes, or in her own room, curiously leafing through the textbooks that it had created for her. She was anxiously looking forward to her upcoming lesson with Professor Snape; partly because of her eagerness to begin learning, and partly because of some other reason that she could not quite put her finger on. By the time she was finishing dinner in the Great Hall, she had grown quite nervous.

"What time is it?" she asked, turning to Harry.

Harry glanced down at the starry watch that had once belonged to Fabian Prewett.

"About six forty," he said. "Why?"

"My lesson is supposed to be at seven," she said, "But I don't know how to get there."

Harry recalled what she had told him about her lessons with Professor Snape.

"Where is it supposed to be?" he asked, "In his classroom or in his office?"

"Professor McGonagall said it would be in his office," Sarah replied. "I haven't seen him since Saturday."

"I can take you," said Harry, finishing up his last few bites of treacle tart. He then rose from the bench, Sarah standing as well. "We may as well go now. He'll give you detention if you're even a tiny bit late... come to think of it, I'm not even sure he _can_ give you detention, but we had better not risk it. I wouldn't put it past him."

Ron attempted to direct a question at the two who were rising from the table, but his mouth was so full of food that it was unintelligible. Attempting to swallow it all at once, he began coughing. Hermione patted him on the back, her eyes directed downward at her copy of _The Evening Prophet_ in front of her on the table.

"I think Ronald would like to know where you're going," she said distractedly.

"I'm going to be taking lessons with Professor Snape," said Sarah.

Once he had managed to swallow his food, Ron looked up at her, aghast.

"It'll be alright," Harry assured him, turning Sarah away from the table toward the doors. "Let's go."

As they walked away, they heard Ron mumbling something about it being a better idea for Harry to teach her instead.

"Is there something wrong with Professor Snape?" Sarah asked, Harry now leading her through unfamiliar corridors.

"He just isn't the type who would volunteer to give someone like you private lessons," Harry explained. "That's what Ron is probably on about. He'll understand better once we tell him that McGonagall forced him to."

Sarah remained silent.

"He's just got a bad reputation," Harry continued, "He can be a pretty nasty teacher. You might see for yourself."

Harry began leading Sarah downward along a spiraling staircase. They descended into the dungeons. Professor Snape _did_ seem like a pretty grumpy person, Sarah thought to herself, but he hadn't been outright _nasty_ to her... yet. She sincerely hoped that he wouldn't pick tonight to start.

Weaving their way through the dungeons, they approached a door.

"Right in there," Harry said, motioning to the door. "I'd open it for you, but... let's just say, Professor Snape doesn't like me very much, and it might rub off on you if he sees that I'm the one who brought you here. Come to think of it," Harry pulled off the Gryffindor scarf that Sarah was still proudly wearing over her shoulders, "We'd better tone down the Gryffindor thing a bit. That should do. If he sees the crest on your robes, you can just tell him you're borrowing someone else's. I'll go put this up in your room for you."

"Thanks a lot, Harry," said Sarah, smiling at him. She greatly appreciated all the ways in which he was helping her.

"No problem," he said, returning her smile. "Think you can find your way back alright?"

"I should be able to," she nodded.

"Alright then, good luck," said Harry. He gave her a small wave and headed back up out of the dungeons.

Now alone, Sarah turned toward the door in front of her. She was quite nervous. Taking a deep breath, she stepped up to it, knocking twice.

"Enter," called a deep, silky voice from within.

Sarah pulled on the door's large, rusty handle, letting herself in. She shut it as quietly as possible behind her.

She found herself inside a medium-sized room which greatly resembled a Muggle chemistry lab. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with bottles and jars. There were a couple tables completely covered in what looked to Sarah like chemistry equipment. There was a small door on the room's right wall. At the far end, Snape sat at a large desk covered in parchments, a long quill in his hand. There was also a single large, white feather resting on his desk. He looked up at the girl as she entered.

"I doubt you are going to learn much magic standing in my doorway," he drawled at her.

At this, Sarah slowly drew closer to his desk, eyes quickly moving around the room. She was quite fascinated by everything she saw. Even though it looked like a Muggle chemistry lab, it certainly didn't smell like one. On the contrary, she discovered it to slightly hint of the same pleasant scent she had already come to associate with this man. She found herself breathing slowly and deeply, though she did not know why. Snape, watching her as she examined the room, spied the Gryffindor crest on her robes. His eyes narrowed.

"Already adopted by Gryffindor, I see," he said.

Startled, Sarah looked to him. She hadn't expected him to notice _that_ quickly. Perhaps this whole House rivalry was bigger than she thought.

"Sort of," she began, deciding to tell him the truth. He did, after all, know her entire story. She didn't see the harm in being honest with him. "Professor McGonagall thought it would be a good idea for it to look like I was in one of the school's Houses. People might ask less questions about me, or not even notice me at all."

"I see," he said. He could see the logic in that, even though the choice of House displeased him. Standing, he moved around to the front of the desk to stand before the girl. Sarah looked up at him. He was much taller than her. She wasn't at all surprised to see him wearing the same black attire as always.

"Well, Miss Garrend," he said, regarding her, "Magic in itself is an extremely broad topic with many branches. You could not possibly hope to learn everything in a single night. It will take some time to bring you up to scratch."

Sarah nodded. She hadn't expecting to be able to repair broken flasks or summon objects after her very first lesson.

"That, I believe, is the point of these lessons," he continued. "Even though you are not officially a student of this school, I expect you to behave as such."

"I understand, Professor," she said, understanding what he expected.

"Good. Now," he said, picking his wand up off his desk. Sarah mimicked him, drawing her wand out of her robes. "Seeing as you are completely devoid of any magical knowledge, I thought we might begin with a simple charm that will aid you in developing basic control over your wand's direction. This is typically taught to first year students."

He stepped aside, gesturing to the single white feather upon his desk.

"Observe,"

Sarah watched intently as he raised his wand. He then made a swishing and flicking movement with it.

_"Wingardium Leviosa,"_

The feather levitated into the air. As Snape raised his wand higher, the feather climbed higher, seeming to follow the wand's direction. As he lowered his wand, so too lowered the feather. Turning his wand toward Sarah, the feather followed. He lowered it toward her. When she held out a hand, he gently placed the feather in it, and broke the charm.

"A simple levitation charm," he explained. "You saw how the feather followed my direction. In order to do this, you will need to establish control over your wand. Once you are able to master this, we can move on to something else. Please place the feather in the center of the floor and begin. I do not wish the contents of my desk to be disturbed by your efforts."

Sarah moved to the center of the room and placed the feather upon the floor. Stepping back from it, she raised her wand.

"The spoken incantation is pronounced _Wingardium Leviosa_," he repeated slowly for her again. "And please be warned that this particular spell does not require loud volume or forcible wand movements. I would rather you not damage my office."

Nodding, Sarah focused on the feather as hard as she could. Attempting to repeat the same motion that she had seen Snape perform with his wand, she spoke.

_"Wingardium Leviosa,"_

The feather raised off the floor a few inches, but zipped across the room and hit one of the shelves, falling again.

"You managed to affect it," said Snape, "But you have no control over your wand. You must learn to establish and exercise this control. Try again."

Sarah moved to the feather and picked it up, replacing it in the center of the room. Stepping back, she tried again.

_"Wingardium Leviosa,"_

The feather raised slightly higher this time, but then rocketed off in a completely different direction, falling to the floor once more. Sarah retrieved it and prepared to try again. Snape was glad that he had chosen something as harmless as a feather to experiment on in her first lesson. Had he chosen something more substantial, she would surely have broken several things by now.

"Focus on not only the feather, but the wand in your hand," he instructed. "Feel its connection with you, as well as its connection with the feather. Think of it as an extension of your own body."

Taking a deep breath, Sarah tried again.

_"Wingardium Leviosa,"_

The results were much different this time. The feather lifted several inches off of the ground, and remained still. After a few seconds, Sarah tentatively raised her wand upward, thrilled to see the feather rise as well, following her movement. Excited with her success, she smiled and looked to Snape, who was watching the feather, his features quite blank. As she did this, the feather fluttered to the floor. Snape looked to the girl.

"You lost focus," he explained. "Magic requires focus. A spell you are sustaining can only remain active as long as you maintain your focus. If your focus breaks," he nodded once and motioned to the lifeless feather on the floor. "If you can manage to place the feather back on my desk, _without_ disturbing anything else in the process, we can move on." He moved back around to the other side of his desk, taking his seat again. He continued grading the parchments he had been working on when the girl had arrived.

About twenty minutes later, Sarah had finally accomplished this task. This was, of course, only after she had managed to drop the feather several times, accidentally remove the quill from Snape's hand, _and_ knock over his inkwell. Sighing and running his hand over his face, he stood again.

"That, I think, will conclude your wandwork for this evening, Miss Garrend," Sarah looked crestfallen. Snape eyed her and took note of her disappointed expression. "That does not mean, however, that your lesson is concluded. As I have said, Magic is a broad subject with many branches. You have already examined the products of another one of these branches yourself, I believe."

Sarah tilted her head.

"Potions," he stated simply. "An extremely broad and intricate topic in itself, we will only manage to get you slightly acquainted with the study tonight."

Sarah watched him as he cleared off one of the other tables in the room. He then pulled up a spare chair that had been sitting behind his desk. Moving over to one of his shelves, he began pulling things off of it, and placing them on the bare table. There appeared to be a small cauldron, some scales, and several labeled ingredients that he was setting out for her.

"This potion, when completed," he said, handing her a parchment on which he had written instructions, "Will act as a simple antidote to nausea. If you can manage to brew it correctly, I will permit you to keep it. Please begin. I will give you one hour."

Snape returned to his desk and continued with his work. Sarah placed her wand inside her robes and sat down at the table he had set up for her, beginning to decipher the instructions written in his cramped, spiky script. He had clearly labeled all of the ingredients for her. Having no magical background, she couldn't possibly hope to identify some of these things which might as well be common household items in a Wizarding home. After reading over the instructions several times, she set to work.

During the times when her cauldron needed to simmer for a few minutes, as per the instructions, she became bored and slightly restless. She snuck a few glances at Snape, who seemed to be completely absorbed in his work and not paying her any attention. Too frightened to attempt striking up any sort of conversation with him, she took to practicing her newly learned levitation charm on her parchment of instructions.

Concentrating on keeping her focus on the charm, she did not notice that Snape had risen from his desk and moved behind her. She only became aware of his presence when he placed his hands on the back of her chair and leaned down near her to check the state of her cauldron. Utterly startled at his appearance and close proximity, she lost focus on her charm. Her parchment fluttered down through the air, landing right into her cauldron, where the paper and the ink had an immediate reaction with the uncompleted potion inside.

Sarah yelped as some of her potion splashed out at her, getting into her eyes. Snape jumped back as she leapt to her feet, her chair falling over backwards and clattering loudly to the floor. By the way she was holding her head down and shielding her eyes from further damage with her forearm, he could immediately tell what had happened. He grabbed her by the back of her shoulders and began steering her roughly toward the door which lead into his private quarters.

"My eyes," she said, "Some of it got into my eyes!" She was rubbing her eyes with both hands furiously, unable to see anything as she did. Feeling Snape take her by the shoulders, she allowed him to blindly guide her. She wasn't in any pain, but her eyes were greatly irritated.

"I know, you foolish girl," he snarled at her, throwing open the door and shoving her through it. He continued shepherding her through his quarters, toward his washroom. He knew that nothing in the potion would be particularly dangerous or damaging to her eyes, but it was still best that she rinse it out.

As she was pushed roughly along, Sarah continued rubbing at her irritated eyes. She had assumed that he was angry and frustrated with her for managing to mess up such a simple potion; the _real_ reason behind his agitation was unknown to her. There was something worrying him about what had just happened.

Pushing her into his washroom, he shoved her toward the sink. Whipping out his wand, he flicked it at the tap, which immediately began pouring warm water into the basin.

"Rinse," he said. He placed one of his hands flat on the upper part of her back, forcing her to bend toward the sink. Hearing the running water near her face, Sarah removed her hands from her eyes and immediately began rinsing.

_She_ had no idea that nothing in the potion would be damaging to her eyes, but she had assumed this was the case from the rough and hurried manner in which she had been guided to the sink. She rinsed as quickly as she could, again and again, flooding her eyes with warm water. Snape stood watching behind her.

After several minutes of frenzied rinsing, she straightened up a bit, still unable to see through her watery eyes. Snape forced a small towel into her left hand.

"Thank you," she said softly, hoping that he could hear the apology in her voice. For some reason that she could not identify, she felt eager to please him and prove herself to him. He had been the one who initially argued against her being a witch, after all. Snape did not respond. Though she could not see it, Snape was intently watching her reflection in the mirror above the sink, anxiously waiting for her to open her eyes.

Leaning back down into the sink, Sarah splashed her eyes with water once more, and then quickly toweled dry. Letting out a sigh of relief, she set her towel aside and straightened up again. She glanced briefly at her own reflection, and began turning around toward Snape when she did a double-take at what she saw in the mirror.

Something was horribly, horribly wrong with what was staring back at her. Gripping either side of the basin with her hands, she leaned right up to the mirror, getting as close as she could.

Her irises, which she had always known to be an unchanging dark brown in color, were now a bright blood red.

She gasped, her pupils constricting sharply at the horror she saw. Her knuckles grew white as she gripped the basin. She stared into her own red-eyed reflection for several long moments. Her eyes shifting upward in the mirror, she could see Snape's reflection. He was standing against the wall behind her, looking at her in the mirror. His expression was unreadable.

Trying to maintain as neutral an expression as possible, he took a deep breath. He was now faced with a dilemma; whether or not to lie to the girl and tell her that the potion mishap had done this strange thing to her eyes, or do admit to her that he had placed a glamour on her eyes that night in the hospital wing in order to hide her condition from everyone, including herself.

Several long moments of silence passed.

"Please follow me back into my office, Miss Garrend," he said at last. She followed him back through his quarters, too preoccupied with what had happened in order to take in any of her surroundings.

Arriving back in his office, he righted the chair that she had been sitting in. He moved it in front of his desk, facing it, and then proceeded around to his own chair, taking a seat. Shaky on her feet, Sarah sank into the chair, staring at him over his desk. He folded his hands in front of him, regarding her carefully. He had made his decision.

"Miss Garrend," he began, "A few days ago, you were correct in your suspicion that I had done something to you before leaving the hospital wing."

Sarah stared at him. She recalled how Snape had flicked his wand in her direction and her eyes had filled with a slight burning sensation which had quickly faded.

"_You_ did this to my eyes? _Why?_" she asked, sounding shocked. She had misunderstood him.

"No, Miss Garrend," he replied, trying his hardest to remain calm with her, "I did not turn your eyes that unfortunate shade of red. I placed a charm upon them which changed them back to their original color."

"But, _why?_" she asked, glancing quickly all around the room as if she would find the answers somewhere there. She then looked back to him. "What happened to my eyes, then? What's wrong with me?" She sounded extremely frightened.

Snape took a deep breath.

"I am afraid they changed the night you arrived here," he began. "When I found you badly injured on the school's steps after performing those extraordinary feats of magic, I picked you up. As I carried you inside, I happened to see your eyes in their previous state. It seems that, somewhere between the time when you lost consciousness in my arms and awoke once again in the hospital wing, they had changed."

"Why?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

"We are, as of yet, unsure," he replied.

"But why did you change them back, then?" she asked. "Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey must have already seen, they must know. Why did you bother changing them back?"

"They did see. That is not the problem," he explained. "It is from anyone _else_ seeing your eye color which I protected you against."

"Why?" Sarah asked. "Would they think I was some sort of... some sort of freak or something?"

"Perhaps," he said. "Perhaps worse."

"What do you mean?"

"I am afraid, Miss Garrend, that for reasons yet outside your understanding," he continued, "Having eyes of red would most certainly not endear you to any witch or wizard you meet. There was, in all too recent history, an extremely infamous wizard. He was, quite simply put, a monster. His eyes, while not _exactly_ the same as yours, were also red, even though they began life as a normal color."

Sarah stared silently at him.

For the next fifteen minutes, Snape consented to give her a brief explanation of Voldemort and his evil. He told her of the wars he had started, the terrible acts he had committed against man and nature, and the countless people whom he and his Death Eaters murdered in cold blood. Even though this was only a short explanation with many details left out, Sarah was terrified. She hadn't yet stopped to think that magic could be used to such terrible purposes. She had thought it was something wonderful, something that could help people and perform extraordinary miracles. She felt sick as she learned that it could also be used to kill, torture, and destroy. When Snape finished his brief explanation, Sarah spoke again.

"So this Dark Lord," she began, her voice shaky, "People might think... I'm-?" she was unable to complete the rest of her sentence.

"I do not believe people would think that you _are_ the Dark Lord, no," Snape said. "For most witches and wizards, red eyes would be inextricably linked with memories of him and the fear he held over their lives. They may be frightened of you, perhaps even tempted to become aggressive with you. For reasons beyond your control, people would be immediately suspicious of you, among other things."

Sarah nodded slowly, beginning to understand.

"It is for this reason that I thought it best to hide this detail," he explained. "As a newly discovered witch, something quite strange to begin with, having red eyes would certainly not have you off to a very good start in the Wizarding world."

"Why did you hide it from _me_, though?" Sarah asked.

"At the time, would you really have taken well to the news that your eyes had mysteriously changed color for reasons unknown, Miss Garrend?" Snape replied, his tone harsh.

"Probably not, no," she admitted.

"There you have it," said Snape. "Now that you _are_ aware, however, I must insist that we continue the use of a glamour in order to give your eyes their original appearance. I can perform the charm for you until a time when you become skilled enough to perform it on yourself."

Sarah nodded her consent. She had been given an explanation, however brief, of the stigma behind having red eyes. Eager to fit into her new world, she did not want to place herself at this disadvantage. She idly wondered how Harry or any of her other new friends would have reacted had they met her with red eyes instead of brown.

"Is it going to stay this way for good?" she asked.

"Of this we are also unsure," Snape replied. "I cannot tell you any more than that, for the simple fact that we do not know at this time."

Snape, believing that the girl had been through quite enough in her first lesson, stood. She mimicked him.

"Well, Miss Garrend," he said, "You have begun learning to exercise control over your wand and your magic, you received a small, if disastrous, taste of potionmaking, and even received a bit of an impromptu history lesson. I believe that will be enough for one night."

"Alright," she said, sighing. She had come into this lesson so very eager and excited. Now, however, she was slightly depressed to learn of the terribly frightening change in her appearance. Worried, she hoped that her new friends would never find out.

Snape moved around the front of his desk to face the girl.

"Please turn toward me so that I may apply the charm before you leave," he said.

Doing as instructed, she turned toward him, but her eyes and head were downcast.

Sarah trembled slightly as she felt Snape's left hand come up under her chin, gently forcing her to look up at him. His black eyes were staring directly into her own. For some reason, Sarah's heart skipped a beat at the sight. She blushed faintly.

Snape furrowed his brows as he looked down at the girl, noticing the slight color in her face. The origin of this color was a mystery to him. Giving it no second thought, he did not dwell on it.

Keeping his left hand underneath her chin to tilt her head upward, he lifted his right, pointing his wand into her eyes.

"Now that you know it's coming," he said, "Expect a slight burning or irritating sensation. In time, you may not even feel this as you become more used to having the charm applied to you. The eyes are extremely sensitive to magic."

He then flicked his wand. Sarah squinted, feeling her eyes burn a little as the charm took effect. Snape stepped away from her as she rubbed her eyes. When she looked back up at him, her eyes had returned to their original shade of brown. Snape nodded at her, indicating that it had worked. Sarah then turned to leave.

"Same time tomorrow, Miss Garrend," Snape called after her as she left his office.

* * *

About ten minutes later, Sarah found herself back in front of the door to Snape's office. Perhaps she had been a little overconfident in telling Harry that she would be able to find her own way back to the Room of Requirement. Thus far, she had not even managed to escape the dungeons. Not knowing what else to do, she knocked softly on the door.

When nothing happened for a couple minutes, she decided to knock again, louder this time. Before her knuckles came into contact with the door, it swung open loudly.

This was the first time, so far, that Sarah had seen him wearing anything other than his black robes. Snape stood before her in the doorway, glaring down at her. He was wearing what looked like a Muggle bathrobe, only longer and more flowing. She could see a bit of his chest exposed through its folds, and the sash was tied tightly about his waist. At this, she immediately dropped her eyes to the floor, blushing. She now saw that his feet were bare.

"What is it?" he grumbled, clearly annoyed.

Sarah cleared her throat softly.

"I... can't find my way back to my room," she admitted, thoroughly embarrassed for many reasons.

Snape exhaled loudly, still glaring down at her.

"And I suppose you expect me to gallantly escort you there?" he groused at her.

"I'm really sorry," she said meekly. She then began turning away.

Snape rolled his eyes at the retreating girl and sighed resignedly, as he had done numerous times within the fast few days.

"Where are you staying?" he called after her, though he still sounded none too pleased.

"A place called the Room of Requirement," Sarah replied, trying not to turn back and look at him. She kept her eyes cast down at the floor. "It's up on one of the higher levels, I think. There's this weird tapestry across from it with some strange guy trying to teach a bunch of trolls to dance or something."

Snape smirked at her irreverent description of the tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to ballet. He knew where that was, up in a corridor on the seventh floor.

"Come," he said sternly, closing his office door and striding past her down the dungeon hallway.

Snape guided Sarah through the castle in silence. Sarah, who probably should have been trying to memorize the route back up to her room, kept her eyes on the floor, determined not to look at Snape again. Something about seeing him dressed this way made her feel a little uneasy. Although she did not notice, it also made her pulse quicken, and instilled a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Reaching the seventh floor corridor Sarah had described, Snape stared at the blank expanse of wall across from the tapestry. He then looked to the girl.

"Well?" he said.

"I've got to make it appear," Sarah replied, still determined not to look at Snape. Biting her lower lip nervously, she stepped forward and began pacing back and forth in front of the blank wall, praying that it would work.

_I need to get back into my room, I need to get back into my room._ She repeated this over and over again in her head, focusing as hard as she could.

To her delight, the same ornately-carved door that she had seen earlier in the day materialized for her. Before she could take any action, Snape strode forward. He grabbed the doorknob and quickly pulled the door open, stepping aside. He was holding the door open for her.

All determinedness forgotten, Sarah looked up at him. He was still glaring at her. She swallowed hard. He wanted her to get inside her room as quickly as possible so he could return to his own.

"Thank you," she said softly, directing her eyes at the floor again. She quickly hurried inside. Snape remained silent.

Once she was inside, he shut the door behind her. It disappeared as he strode away.

Inside her room, Sarah leaned her back against the door and slowly sank to the floor. She stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused. She was not reflecting on the fact that Snape _had_ indeed gallantly escorted her back to her room, despite his annoyance. She thought about her eyes.

Standing, she moved into her bathroom, focusing on how nice it would be for it to be bright inside of it. The sconces lit themselves as she went.

Leaning over her sink toward the mirror, she looked into her own reflection. She saw the same dark brown eyes that she had always known staring back at her.

She now knew, however, of the bright blood red that lay hidden underneath.


	8. Warming Up

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 8: Warming Up.

* * *

The following afternoon, knowing her friends had finished with their classes, Sarah had burst into the Gryffindor common room. Harry expected her to begin recounting how dreadful her lesson with Professor Snape had been. Instead, she began asking questions about this "Dark Lord" that Snape had told her of. Now she wanted to get the entire story. She wanted to know everything. Harry, figuring that now was as good a time as any to fill her in on the details about just who exactly she had befriended, suggested they take a walk. Sarah eagerly agreed, and together they left the common room.

They ended up walking together for several hours, first inside of the school, and then out. It did, after all, take a great deal of time for Harry to tell Sarah his life's story. In doing so, he told her how he had fought off Voldemort multiple times in many forms, and of the major events in the Wizarding world over the past eighteen years. All of these major events were somehow connected with him, and his story flowed well. Even though this was a fairly condensed version, it still took quite some time to tell. When he neared the end of his tale, he and Sarah were aimlessly wandering the school's grounds. It was chilly outside, and the cloudy sky was beginning to darken. This caused the temperature to slope even lower, and the winds picked up slightly.

Sarah was barely paying attention to where she was walking. For all she knew, Harry could have led her back into the Forbidden Forest into the midst of the Centaurs that had attacked her. She walked silently alongside him, eyes wide. His entire story, from the very beginning, was almost too terrible and too incredible to be true. Still unfamiliar with most of the magical world, she did not understand many of the details. Despite this, she was still able to understand his story, and was completely enthralled by it. Harry had just told her of the daring escape from Gringotts on the back of a dragon, in order to obtain one of the Horcruxes.

"So after that," Harry said, "I was able to see that he was headed here, and that's how I knew that the last Horcrux was here too. We Apparated into Hogsmeade, and we nearly got caught by Death Eaters. Luckily, we were able to make it into the school. Through the Room of Requirement, actually."

"You were?" Sarah asked.

Harry proceeded to explain to her how they were able to gain entrance to the school through the room's magic, and how the last Horcrux had ended up being in there too.

"There was a huge battle," Harry said gravely. "Voldemort basically laid siege to the school. He said he only wanted me, and that no one else needed to be harmed, but everyone wasn't about to hand me over. They wanted to fight. Most of them, anyway. A lot of people died fighting."

Harry took a deep breath.

"After that, we knew that the only Horcrux left was the snake. Using the connection I had with him, I was able to find out where he was. He was in the shrieking shack," Harry said, having already explained about the building when he had told her of meeting his godfather, "And there's a secret tunnel that leads there from the school. So Ron, Hermione and I all went."

"You went straight for him?" Sarah was aghast, unable to see the logic in such a move.

"Sort of," Harry continued, "We knew we had to get the snake, and that wasn't going to happen unless we got close to Voldemort. So we went. But when I got there, I saw that Professor Snape was there too."

Sarah turned to Harry. He had already explained to her about how Snape had once been amongst the ranks of the Death Eaters. She had been terrified to learn this. Harry told her how he had changed sides prior to Voldemort's downfall. He had not yet explained to her the real reason behind this. She had been shocked to learn that he had been the one who killed Dumbledore, whom Harry had told her all about. He did tell her, however, not to jump to conclusions until the end of the story. So far, it sounded to Sarah as if Snape had changed sides once again.

"He was there? With Voldemort?" she asked, her voice a whisper.

"Yeah, he was there," Harry said. "And Voldemort had found a reason for which he thought he had to kill him, too." Harry, for the time being, had left out the intricate explanation of the Elder Wand and its powers.

"Voldemort wanted to... kill Professor Snape...?"

"He thought he had to, in order to defeat me. I'll explain exactly why another time," said Harry.

Sarah nodded, urging him to continue.

"So he set Nagini on him. I saw the whole thing happen. Nagini bit him, and then Voldemort just walked away, bringing the snake with him," Harry explained.

Sarah gasped. Snape had told her that he had received the large scar on his neck from being bitten by a snake, but had not explained the circumstances behind it.

"For some reason, I approached him. I thought he was done for. He saw me, and he gave me his memories. Luckily Hermione was there to conjure a flask to put them into."

Harry now had to pause his story for several minutes to explain the concept of the Pensieve to Sarah.

"So like I said," he continued, "He gave me these memories of his. And then I thought he had died. That's when I left."

"How did he survive?" Sarah asked, her voice still a faint whisper.

"That's something that I still don't quite know. I've never asked him, and he's never cared to tell me. Later, when I came back to recover his body, he was sitting right there in an armchair, alive as can be. That's something you'll have to ask him yourself," Harry said.

Harry then entered the explanation of what he had seen in Snape's memories. Everything within them exonerated him. Harry had later been able to use them as proof in clearing the wizard's name, making public only the parts that were absolutely necessary. After learning the whole truth, Harry respected the wizard's privacy enough to not simply reveal everything. Harry told her of Snape and his mother, and how his love for her had been the driving force behind everything he did. At this, Sarah had to wipe tears away from her face with the sleeves of her robe.

"Keep it quiet," he quickly explained, watching Sarah as she dried her eyes. "I don't exactly think he would appreciate me telling you all this."

Sarah nodded silently.

Harry then explained how, most importantly, the memories revealed to him that _he_ was an unintentional Horcrux.

"_You?_" Sarah gasped, astonished.

"Yeah," Harry continued, "That was the reason for the weird connection between us for all those years."

Sarah listened as Harry explained how he believed that he had to die, and walked out to meet his death. As he did, he gently tugged on her arm and changed their direction slightly. He was now leading her to a place that would help to illustrate the gravity of his tale.

When he had completely finished his story, they were drawing nearer to the lake. Not far ahead, Sarah could see a white marble tomb and dozens of stone monuments, neatly arranged, surrounding it. Harry brought her up to them.

"Like I said before," he said, "Lots of people died here at the school that night. They were all given the honor of being buried here alongside Dumbledore, on the school grounds, in view of the castle that they had given their lives to defend."

Sarah looked down at the monuments, her expression somber. There had to be over fifty of them. Harry began to slowly walk through them, reading off some of the names.

"Fred Weasley," he said, sighing sadly. "One of Ron's older brothers."

Sarah looked up, eyes filled with tears.

"Lupin and Tonks. They'd just had a baby. He made me godfather, too."

Sarah could no longer take any more of this heartbreaking sadness. Falling to her knees, she slumped forward onto the grass and began to cry. Harry had been about to read off another name, but stopped when he had seen Sarah collapse. He turned toward her. She was sobbing hard. He rushed over to her, kneeling down beside her and craning his head to get a look at her face. He rubbed her back consolingly.

"I had no idea," she sobbed. "About you. About any of this. I...," her next several words were lost to heavy sobbing.

"It's alright," he said softly, "How could you have?"

Sarah felt extremely guilty that she had been completely clueless to the terrible hardships her new friends had faced throughout their young lives. She continued crying for several minutes. She had never personally seen death, or even cried for her own parents. She couldn't even remember them. She had only been an infant. Now, however, having listened to Harry's sad tale, she felt as if she were letting out a lifetime's worth of tears.

Harry continued kneeling beside her and rubbing her back. He had, as he realized, just given her an awful lot of information to digest; the majority of it, terribly depressing.

"It's all over now," he said, trying to calm her down. "All these brave people saw to that."

After a few more minutes, Sarah quieted.

"I guess you can see why I was a little confused when you hadn't recognized me, right?" Harry asked, giving her a small smile.

Sarah sniffed, rubbing her eyes.

"Yeah, I can," she said, a slight note of humor in her voice. She sat back on the grass, looking to Harry. She took a deep, shaky breath, still wiping some tears from her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"You don't need to be sorry, Sarah," he said, patting her on the back. "You started asking questions about Voldemort, so I thought you deserved to know all of this. Like they say, 'lest we forget'. Every witch and wizard knows about most of this. I thought you should know too."

Sarah nodded a few times, her eyes on the rows of monuments in front of her.

"I wasn't here for it," she said, "But I'll never forget."

"Besides, who better to tell you _that_ whole story than Harry Potter himself?" Harry smiled at her. "Tons of people would pay loads of galleons for The Boy Who Lived to walk them around and give them a full account of his life's story in his own words!" He said this sarcastically, even though he knew it to be very true.

She laughed a little.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she said, smiling.

"I honestly didn't mean for it to upset you like this," Harry said. "I guess I should have been smarter and expected it."

"It's alright, Harry," Sarah replied. "It's my fault too, I didn't know what I was asking you to tell me."

The sky continued slowly darkening, and it had grown very cold. Harry thought it might be just about suppertime. He watched as Sarah bundled her arms around herself, wiping her eyes a few more times on her sleeve. With a stroke of genius, he shot to his feet, realizing just what might cheer her up.

"Come on," he said, holding his hand out to her, "There's someone I'd like you to meet before we head back inside the castle."

Taking Harry's hand, Sarah was helped to her feet.

Together, they proceeded on a lengthy walk around the other side of the castle. There, they began making their way down a long, winding pathway that lead away from the school. Sarah's mind was not on where she was headed or who she was about to meet, however. She was trying to absorb everything Harry had just told her. She had asked him about Voldemort, and he had certainly told her quite a story. She was utterly humbled by it.

She could scarcely believe that the seemingly normal young man whom she had befriended had done all of those amazing things and been through so much. She could also hardly believe that this same amazing young man had now gone out of his way to be a friend to her. Ron and Hermione as well, she knew, had been through quite a lot. Despite all of this, they were all so very normal and unassuming, and ready to be her friends.

She was also dwelling on what she had heard about Snape. For some reason, his role in the story had been of particular interest to her. It fascinated her. It was like discovering a weak spot in an impenetrable suit of armor, or like a single ray of sunlight breaking through a darkened sky. He couldn't be _that_ terrible of a person, she thought. Just look at what he had done. He was, in every sense of the word, a hero. Like Harry, however, this seemed to be of little or no factor in his behavior or lifestyle. When she had asked how he received his scar, he had simply told her he was bitten by a snake. He decided to omit the bits about this being the snake of the greatest Dark wizard who had ever lived, and that the snake happened to contain a piece of said wizard's soul. _Just a minor detail,_ Sarah thought to herself, smirking inwardly.

She was also wondering how he had managed to survive. This was a mystery, even to Harry. As much as she wanted to know, she doubted that she had the courage to ask him. Even if she did, she though that he probably wouldn't even tell her anyway.

She would certainly be regarding him in a different light from now on. Knowing what was good for her, however, she wouldn't dare tell him what she had heard. She knew, from what Harry had told her, that it was an extremely personal and painful secret. She would do her utmost to respect that.

Even though she had asked Harry about Voldemort and learned more than she possibly could have expected, Sarah's curiosity was still wanting. Harry hadn't touched on the detail that Sarah had originally been interested in from the start. His eyes.

Sarah could not see the harm in just asking him outright. They had been silent since leaving the monuments. Harry knew that she was probably still absorbing everything he had told her, and decided to remain quiet.

"Harry," Sarah began quietly, looking over at him. He looked back to her as well, giving her a small smile. Eager to cheer her up after having inadvertently upset her, Harry would encourage any questions she would ask of him. "Professor Snape told me a little bit about Voldemort. He told me... he told me that his eyes were red. Is that true?"

"Sure is," said Harry. "Glowed sometimes, too. By the end, he didn't have normal human eyes. They had slits for pupils, like a snake's would."

"Why was that?" asked Sarah, hoping to find an answer. Sadly, she would not.

"I'm not really sure," Harry replied. "Professor Dumbledore showed me memories of him when he was younger, even at our age. He looked normal enough at first. Handsome, even. But then his appearance started changing. I saw his eyes flash red a few times, even when he was still normal."

"How did he change?"

"Well," Harry began, "Like I said, at first, he was handsome. Then, over the years, his features sort of... distorted, I guess. As he made his Horcruxes, I think. The Voldemort I knew was snakelike. He didn't look human at all anymore. He had those glowing red snake's eyes, and he had slits for nostrils too. He didn't have hair anymore, and his skin was extremely pale. Not normal at all."

Sarah looked shocked as she stared at Harry. She was currently imagining herself undergoing a similar transformation. Seeing the look on her face, Harry laughed.

"Don't worry," he said, "Witches and wizards don't suddenly wake up one morning with red eyes and other strange features. That won't happen to you. The terrible things he did to other people, and himself, made him that way I think."

Sarah nodded, but remained silent. Part of his statement, at least in her case, was untrue.

"I even had a bit of him inside of me, remember?" he continued, "And the worst I got was this scar."

"Yeah," Sarah said, trying to sound as normal as possible. "I was just being silly, I guess. Nothing like that would happen to me."

"Of course not," Harry assured her.

Sarah hadn't even noticed, but they were approaching a large, rustic-looking cottage. There was smoke drifting upwards from the chimney, and a warm light glowing in the window.

"Remember Hagrid?" Harry asked. "From the story?"

"Yeah?" Sarah replied, recalling what Harry had told him about his half-giant friend.

"Well, you're about to meet him for yourself," said Harry. He smiled at Sarah. She looked a little frightened, unsure of what to expect from meeting someone who was half giant.

Reaching the cottage, Harry climbed the small steps in front of the door. He knocked several times, and then motioned for Sarah to join him on the doorstep. As soon as Harry had knocked, there came a loud, booming bark from inside. Sarah looked apprehensive. She wondered if that dog was going to be giant as well.

The door swung open powerfully. Standing in the doorway, Sarah saw, was a simply enormous man with a mane of shaggy hair and an equally shaggy beard. He was easily much more than twice her height, and several times as wide. Upon seeing Harry, he gave a roar of delight.

"Harry!" Hagrid boomed, bending down and scooping Harry into a bone-crushing hug. Harry winced. Every time he would visit Hagrid, he was treated to one of these hugs. The reason for this, Harry thought, was so Hagrid could be sure that Harry was really and truly alive. Harry would never forget the way in which Hagrid had cried tears of anguish onto his body when everyone believed him to be dead. "So nice o' yeh ter visit!"

"Hagrid, I can't breathe!" Harry wheezed out. Hagrid put Harry down and patted him hard on the shoulder. Harry almost fell over.

"Who's yer friend?" asked Hagrid, eyeing the small, long-haired witch standing quite petrified before his doorstep.

"Hagrid," Harry said, motioning to Sarah, "This is Sarah Garrend. She's from America, come to Hogwarts to study abroad."

Hagrid smiled brightly and watched as the girl moved up his doorstep to meet him.

"Well, lovely ter meet yeh, Miss Garrend!" Hagrid gave her a small bow, still smiling.

"Please, call me Sarah," she said, smiling back at him. She could already tell that this was an extremely warm and friendly person, no matter his daunting size. With the warm, welcoming light flooding out of Hagrid's doorway, and the prospect of making a new friend, all melancholy was temporarily forgotten.

"Well, jus' as lovely ter meet yeh, Sarah." Hagrid said. "Why don' you two join me fer some tea?" he asked, motioning inside. "Was jus' abou' ter have some meself."

"That would be great, Hagrid," Harry said. This was just what he had been hoping for to cheer Sarah up.

Hagrid welcomed them inside, shutting the door behind them. Sarah was promptly assaulted by Fang the boarhound, who could easily place his paws on her shoulders and still be taller than her. He jumped up at her, licking at her face. Sarah laughed and patted him while attempting to not get slobbered on. Taking a seat at the table, Harry was glad that he had brought someone new to Hagrid's hut in order to avoid this enthusiastic, albeit wet, greeting.

"Sorry abou' that," Hagrid called over his shoulder as he fussed with the huge teakettle. "He's always excited ter have comp'ny."

"It's alright," Sarah laughed, still trying to fend off Fang's licking, "I like dogs."

"Well he sure seems ter like you too," Hagrid set out three enormous mugs on the table. "Down, Fang," he scolded the dog. "She won' be comin' back ter see yeh again if yeh slobber all over her on her firs' visit." Obeying his master, Fang settled down, lying on his rug near the fire.

Sarah took a place next to Harry at the table, curiously examining her oversized mug. Bringing over the teakettle, Hagrid poured all three of them generous amounts of steaming hot tea. He then brought milk and sugar over to the table, and took a seat across from Sarah. All three of them sipped their tea. Sarah was calmed by the welcoming warmth of Hagrid's cottage as well as the tea he had poured for her. She hadn't really realized until now just how chilly it had gotten outside as she knelt crying before the monuments.

"So Sarah," Hagrid began, "Should I be expectin' yeh in me class? Will yeh be takin' Care o' Magical Creatures?" he asked interestedly.

Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but Harry spoke for her.

"She's not really taking normal classes, Hagrid," he explained. "But I'm sure she'd love to come down and have a lesson or two with you," Harry looked hopefully at Sarah.

"Oh, yeah," Sarah stammered, "I'd love to," she said, quite honestly. She was eager to learn as much as she could, about whatever she could. "I don't really know much about magical creatures. I never really learned anything about them back in the States." _Boy is that the truth,_ she thought to herself.

"Well great!" Hagrid said, smiling. "I'd love ter teach yeh a thing or two, then. When can yeh come down?"

"Any time, really," said Sarah. "When's best for you?"

"Righ' before lunch, I havn' got any classes. Why don' yeh come down then? I'll introduce yeh ter Buckbeak, he'd love ter meet yeh," Hagrid said excitedly.

"Sounds great to me," Sarah smiled at him.

Harry smiled inwardly. He was quite sure that Sarah had no idea what she had just gotten herself into. Spending time with Hagrid, he knew, should be quite the learning experience for her.

They spent the next little while conversing with Hagrid over tea. When it got a little later, Hagrid set out a hearty stew for them to eat for supper. Sarah thought it was possibly the best thing she had ever tasted. Continuing their conversation, Hagrid told them of the goings-on in the forest. He mentioned that the Centaurs seemed riled about something. When Sarah looked to Harry, Harry quickly shook his head, communicating to her not to mention the Centaur attack. Centaurs could be extremely dangerous, and Harry knew that Hagrid would go to see about what they had done to the girl if he found out that they had attacked her. Sarah nodded once in reply, communicating that she understood him.

A short while later, Sarah noticed that it had grown much darker outside. She gasped suddenly.

"What time is it?" She asked, glancing around the cottage in an attempt to find a clock. She had been enjoying herself so much that she had lost track of time. Harry glanced to his starry watch.

"About ten to seven," Harry replied. Just before he could ask why, he looked up and saw Sarah's nervous expression and wide eyes. He realized why she wanted to know what time it was. He swore.

"Sorry, Hagrid, but we've got to get going," Harry said, springing out of his chair. Sarah did the same. "Sarah's supposed to be somewhere at seven, and we've lost track of the time."

"Alrigh', you two," Hagrid said, watching them as they hurried to the door. "Pleasure meetin' yeh, Sarah," he smiled down at her, rising from his chair.

"You too, Hagrid!" Sarah replied. Harry had flung open the door and was already pulling her out of it. "Thanks for everything! I'll stop by tomorrow before lunch!" she shouted back at him as Harry dragged her away.

"Tell Ron an' Hermione I said hello and ter come visit me, would yeh Harry?" Hagrid shouted after them.

Wondering where they were off to in such a hurry, Hagrid closed the door behind him. He then began tidying up the table.

"Sweet girl," he said to himself. He glanced to Fang who was dozing by the fire. Had he been awake, Hagrid was sure the boarhound would have agreed.

* * *

Harry and Sarah had almost completely sprinted the entire way back up to the castle. Once they were inside, Sarah leaned up against a wall, panting. Harry was equally out of breath. They spent a few seconds recovering before Harry glanced down at his watch again.

"We've got... about... five minutes...," he said, in between pants. "Come on."

Harry guided her down into the dungeons, still at a running pace. In their haste, Sarah had almost fallen down the stairs two or three times. When they arrived at the door to Snape's office, she was about ready to collapse.

"About a minute to spare," said Harry, glancing at his watch and trying to catch his breath.

"Harry," said Sarah, also attempting to catch her breath, "I really can't thank you enough for everything you've been doing for me. Without you, I'd probably still be living up in the hospital wing, and not meeting anybody. You've done so much for me. I had no idea about anything, I'm sure you don't need another burden-,"

Harry cut her off.

"No burden at all, really," he insisted. "Just because I've been through all that stuff doesn't mean I can't be a nice, decent person to somebody in need. Now you better get inside, don't want to be late for him. I'll head up to your room and leave you some directions on getting to Hagrid's for tomorrow, we've got class then, so I won't be able to take you. You should be alright."

Sarah smiled at him. He was constantly finding ways to help her. She thought that she had never met a nicer person.

"Thanks a ton, Harry. Really. I can't thank you enough."

"I've told you, it's no problem. Now go on in," he said. "And remember what I said about keeping what I told you quiet."

"I won't tell a soul, I promise," Sarah said sincerely.

"Good luck, then. Come tell me how Hagrid's was tomorrow afternoon," Harry said, patting her on the shoulder before turning to leave.

Once Harry was gone, Sarah straightened her robes. She had mostly caught her breath now, but was still breathing a little heavily. Her heartbeat, however, did not slow down. If anything, it had sped up the closer she had drawn to Snape's office. Standing before the door and preparing to knock, it was beating quite fast. Taking a deep breath, she gathered up her courage and knocked twice.

"Enter," called the voice from inside.

Obeying, Sarah opened the door and stepped inside, closing it as quietly as she could behind her. Snape looked up at the girl as she entered.

He took note of her appearance. The attractive young witch standing in his doorway, looking flushed and slightly windswept, breathing a little heavily, set a twinge of something stirring deep within him. Pushing it aside as quickly as it had surfaced, he cleared his throat and stood. As Sarah approached his desk, she noticed him eyeing her. She blushed a little, but it was barely noticeable. She had no idea how flushed she already looked.

"Had to run to get here," she explained, "Almost lost track of time. Didn't want to be late."

"So I see," he said, his dark eyes still resting on her. "You look as if you have just run a marathon."

At this, Sarah began self-consciously trying to straighten her hair a little with her hands. Snape raised an eyebrow.

They quickly set to work. Sarah realized that for some reason, Snape really wanted her to learn how to have precision control over her wand. She continued working with the levitation charm he had taught her yesterday, but this time he made it more difficult. He set out multiple books for her, all with varying thickness and size. He then would give her an order in which to stack them with only the use of her wand.

Sarah had thought it sounded like an easy enough task at first. Half an hour later, however, she quickly learned that precision with her wand was not quite so easy. She sat cross-legged on the floor, trying to arrange the books in the order Snape had instructed her to. Snape sat at his desk, once again grading parchments. She could manage to get some of the books on top of one another, but never in a neat enough stack to allow further books to be added without the entire thing collapsing.

Sarah grew frustrated. A few times, when she had thought Snape wasn't looking, she would quickly sneak her hand into the task and straighten the books a little. Snape, however, always seemed to notice. This little stunt would earn her a harsh glare from him, as well as a flick of his wand which would cause all of her progress to collapse to the floor. Perhaps Snape was watching her more closely than she thought. Self-consciously, she would continue her efforts.

Later into the evening, Sarah had finally gotten the hang of it. As a final test of her abilities with this task, Snape had instructed her to stack a small handful of bronze knuts which he had produced from a pocket inside his robes. She quickly achieved this, looking quite proud of herself as she did. Assuring her that they would begin more complicated wandwork during their next lesson, he set her to work brewing another simple potion. Once again, he had given her detailed instructions and clearly labeled all of the ingredients. Aware of the effect he had produced last time he drew close to the girl while she was unaware, he decided to remain seated at his desk, asking her periodically to describe the stage her potion was at.

While her cauldron simmered, Sarah continued sneaking surreptitious glances at Snape. She propped her right elbow up on her table, leaning against it and resting her head in her hand. She couldn't get anything Harry had told her about Snape out of her head. It seemed impossible to her that this same harsh, severe person could be the same man from the story Harry had told her. He definitely looked more the part of the Death Eater than the hero acting out of love.

Still, she suspected that she _had_ seen a brief glimpse or two of this other, different Snape. He had been almost tender with her when she was bleeding in his arms the night he had retrieved her from the castle steps. Despite his annoyance at being required to take her to Diagon Alley, he had been a gentleman to her, or at least as much of one as she imagined he could be. He hadn't been thrilled to be forced to give her these lessons, yet here he was, patiently teaching her. _Almost,_ she added as an afterthought, smirking to herself.

He had even grudgingly escorted her back to the Room of Requirement the previous night, after having already changed out of his clothes. When her thoughts returned to her memories of seeing Snape in his bathrobe, her eyes became quite unfocused and her mind continued to drift. She had uninentionally seen a bit of his chest exposed. Without even realizing it, or knowing why, she soon began wondering about what else could be underneath that robe.

Snape looked up at the girl. He had just been about to ask her if her potion had reached its next ideal stage, but he stopped when he took note of the girl's expression and posture. She was leaning against her table quite casually, elbow propped up, and her head resting in her hand. He might not have become perplexed at all about her behavior, or wondered what she could possibly be thinking... were she not staring right at him. He quickly raised an eyebrow; her eyes seemed to have glazed over, and she apparently had taken no notice at all to the fact that he was now looking straight back at her.

He cleared his throat loudly.

Sarah's eyes widened as they came back into focus. She then realized that she had been staring at him, and daydreaming, without having noticed what she was doing. Her face quickly colored, and she shot up straight in her chair, turning back toward her cauldron and staring at it resolutely. She bit her bottom lip hard in embarrassment.

Snape lowered his eyebrow and continued on with his paperwork, but he soon became distracted again and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully in the Sarah's direction. Even though she had turned away quite quickly when he caught her staring, her blush had not escaped his notice.

Perceptive as ever, a pattern had just become clear to him. For some odd reason, he realized, he seemed to affect the girl in some way. Tilting his head slightly, he began to ponder it.

He recalled their trip to Diagon Alley. After having taken hold of her arm to drag her along, there had been some color in her face despite how very cold and pale she had been.

The previous night, in their first lesson, he had noticed her glancing in his direction several times as she worked on her potion. The girl had given a start and lost focus on her charm when he had drawn close to her without her notice. This had been the cause of the fiasco which led her to discovering the truth about her eyes.

Then, when he had tilted her head up toward him to reapply the glamour to her eyes, she had colored. On top of that, seeing him in his bathrobe had caused her to color yet again, and she seemed determined not to look at him again from that point onward as he escorted her back to her room.

Now, only in their second lesson, he had caught her quite plainly staring at him. From the looks of things, she hadn't even noticed that she was doing it in the first place. She didn't even notice him staring straight back at her, either. Her eyes had held a glazed, unfocused look. When he cleared his throat, they sharpened again, and she had quickly blushed and turned away. Just as she had last night, she now seemed determined not to look at him again. Snape raised an eyebrow once again as he regarded her.

Even though he did not have much experience with it himself, he had spent far too many years teaching hormonal teenagers to not recognize some kind of attraction when he saw it. He nearly snorted to himself. The idea of the girl being attracted to him was ludicrous. There had to be some other explanation. Even as he thought this, another part of his mind was telling him quite clearly that there wasn't. Regardless, the idea should be utterly preposterous to him. _Should be,_ he thought to himself.

On the contrary, it intrigued him.

It took several more minutes of silent dialogue for him to be able to admit this to himself on some small level. It _did_ intrigue him. What was it about him that was causing the girl to be affected this way? She was young, and (some small part of his mind spat the word _attractive_ at him, but he ignored it), he couldn't see how he could possibly be of any interest to her. It was probably nothing.

_He,_ of course, could never be attracted to the girl in that manner, he convinced himself. That would be laughable. Ridiculous. Preposterous.

Still intrigued, however, he convinced himself that there was no harm in proceeding to test the girl's reactions to him.

He rose from his desk, taking great care to make sure that his chair scraped the floor loudly. This way, he knew, she would expect him. He didn't want any repeats of last night. The potion he had her working on tonight, a simple warming draught, _could_ potentially harm her eyes if she managed to splash any onto herself. He saw as her head jerked slightly in his direction, as if she wanted to look at him, but she immediately looked back to the potion in front of her. Smirking to himself, he casually strode around his desk to stand behind her. Placing his hands on the back of her chair, he leaned forward to look over her, taking notice as she seemed to stiffen.

"Good," he said, looking into her cauldron, "It seems to be coming along nicely. Once you add the fireflower blossom it should be complete after simmering for another few minutes."

He strode back around to his desk, still watching her. She turned slightly to glance in his direction, but quickly turned back when she saw him looking at her. She seemed very nervous after having been caught staring. Snape was surprised she had managed to continue successfully brewing her potion; she must have wanted to be _very_ focused on something other than him.

A few minutes later, her potion was complete.

"As I said last night," Snape said, searching the shelves for an empty flask, "I would allow you to keep your work if you managed to brew it correctly. As you have not destroyed _this_ potion, you may keep a sample of it."

Finding a suitable flask, he moved over to her cauldron. Sarah had already risen from the table and was now standing before his desk, eyes cast to the floor. She did chance a few glances at him to see how he bottled the potion. Striding up to her, he held the flask up to the light, examining it.

"Satisfactory work, Miss Garrend," he said, turning the flask over and inspecting it from another angle. "I would expect the same product from a student in my class. Were this a real class, I assure you this would have attained a high mark."

She was too pleased with herself not to smile a little. When he caught this, she quickly looked away again. He smirked smugly to himself. This was too easy. Lowering the flask, he held it out to her. She took it from him, careful to avoid any contact with his hand. He noticed this too.

"Thank you," she said, already moving away from his desk, "I'll just be going...,"

Snape turned to her.

"You won't be going anywhere, Miss Garrend," he said sternly. "Not without me, at least. I do not wish to be hearing more knocks on my door come ten minutes from now. As such, I will be escorting you back to your room once more, to insure that you do not become lost. Luckily, this time, I am more appropriately dressed for it," he drawled.

Sarah cleared her throat softly, but said nothing.

Snape began moving toward the door. This drove Sarah toward the door as well, away from him. She opened the door and stepped outside, Snape trailing her closely.

"On the way," he said, shutting the door behind him, "I would like you to make a point of memorizing the route so that this does not become routine."

Sarah nodded quietly.

She remained silent the entire way up to the Room of Requirement. Snape was steadily watching her out of the corner of his eye. She was conspicuously avoiding looking at him, just as she had been last night. He wondered if she knew just how dreadfully obvious she was being in her attempts to appear otherwise.

When they reached the seventh floor corridor, Snape watched as Sarah paced back and forth several times in front of the blank stretch of wall. The ornately-carved wooden door he had seen the previous night appeared once again. Almost as if she had guessed what he might try to do, she immediately stepped forward and opened the door, not allowing him to do it for her. Light flooded out into the darkened hallway, her fireplace and sconces having lit themselves.

"Just a moment, Miss Garrend," said Snape. Sarah was already halfway inside the door. Without an alternative this time, she slowly turned to face him.

"Before you scurry back inside your room, I would like to examine your eyes to insure that the glamour is still holding strong and does not need to be reapplied just yet," he explained.

"Alright," she said softly. She remained standing in the same spot as Snape approached her.

He slowly walked up to her, standing before her closely. He placed himself closer to her than he had last night. Closer, he knew, than was entirely necessary.

Petrified, she took a shaky breath. After her errant daydreaming, having him this close to her was making her just about as warm as she would have been had she tested her own warming draught. Her mind was racing, mentally scolding herself for having those thoughts.

All thought was immediately silenced when she felt his hand on the underside of her chin, tilting her head up to meet him. She now had nowhere else to look than directly into his deep, black eyes, and this is exactly what he wanted. The glamour was fine, he knew; he just wanted to observe her strange reactions to him. He took note of how she had trembled slightly and taken in a shaky breath when she felt him touch her chin. Now staring intently into her eyes, he could see that her pupils were dilated. She was trying her hardest not to blush, but to no avail.

Highly intrigued, Snape leaned closer to her experimentally, still under the guise that he was inspecting the glamour. She did not move away. He also tilted her head up a tiny bit higher. As he did so, he noticed as her gaze broke with his. Her eyes would momentarily flit downward to his lips, and then back up to his eyes. She did this several times. He gave a tiny smirk, and then allowed her to catch his eyes making the same movement. She drew in another extremely shaky breath.

Satisfied with his observations for now, he let his hand drop from her chin and he stepped back away from her. Her eyes were extremely wide, still on him. He gave a small clearing of his throat. This seemed to once again jolt her back into reality, and she quickly turned away, looking inside her room.

"Your eyes appear fine," he said, watching as she looked away. "I should not need to reapply the charm for another few days, granted you manage to keep any additional magical substances out of them."

"Alright," she said meekly.

"Good night, Miss Garrend," he said. He then gave her a small bow, which he knew she saw out of the corner of her eye. He then set off down the corridor.

Sarah scurried into her room, shutting the door hard behind her and leaning up against it. She looked extremely shocked.

Had it been her imagination, she thought, or had Snape almost just... kissed her?

That idea was absurd. She immediately tried to reason off her reactions to him in some other way.

After a few moments, she shook her head to herself. After tonight, she could no longer deny to herself that she was indeed, for some reason, drawn to this mysterious man. She slid down the door, sitting up against it and staring blankly ahead, just as she had done last night. The past several days, far and away, had been the strangest days of her life. This was just adding another thing to a rapidly lengthening list.

Some distance away, in another part of the castle, Snape was on his way back down to his dungeons. Testing the girl's reactions had been quite amusing. Continuing to reflect on them, he was staunchly trying to ignore the reactions of his own.


	9. Taking Flight

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 9: Taking Flight.

* * *

Early the next morning, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape were walking together. It was before breakfast. McGonagall had asked Snape that he drop by to speak with her about the girl's progress. Snape, having slept quite fitfully after his encounter with the girl last night, had decided to pay her an early morning visit. Together they walked out into the school's grounds, the sun not yet completely up. It was very chilly, and there was an extremely light showing of frost coating the grass. Winter was definitely coming quickly this year. Both Snape and McGonagall were suitably bundled up in warm robes.

"So?" asked McGonagall, looking to Snape as they walked along together. "How has the girl been doing?"

"Quite well, actually," Snape admitted. "I expected her to destroy my office with a single wave of her wand. Surprisingly, that has not happened... yet."

McGonagall nodded.

"I have begun by teaching her how to focus and control her magic through her wand. She has picked up on it quite quickly. She could use a more steady hand when it comes to potion making, though," he said wryly.

"What do you mean, Severus?" asked McGonagall.

"In our very first lesson, Monday night," he explained, "She had a bit of a mishap with the potion I instructed her to brew. Long story short, I was forced to tell her the truth about her eyes and what I had done to them after discovering it."

McGonagall sighed.

"How did she take it?" she asked. "I was hoping to be able to keep it from her a bit longer, at least until we might find out exactly what happened, or if it is permanent."

"She was quite shocked at first, naturally," he said. "I tried to explain briefly why having red eyes might cause problems for her. She seemed to understand, and did not ask any more on the matter. Last night it seemed to have been of no concern to her at all." _She seemed quite concerned with __**me**__ instead,_ he thought to himself.

"I see," McGonagall sighed again. At least the girl hadn't taken the strange news too badly.

"Otherwise, she seems to have the aptitude to learn. She has gained a very basic control over her wand. I plan to move into more advanced territory this evening," he said. He then smirked a little to himself at his double entendre.

"Good," said McGonagall. "I am pleased the arrangement is working out. I believe the more she learns, the less of a danger she may potentially be."

"It continues to trouble me," said Snape.

"I am troubled by it as well," replied McGonagall, knowing of what he was speaking. "I have thought long and hard on it, and I cannot seem to find any reasonable explanation for why the girl was not approached."

"There has to be one," Snape said confidently.

"There may be one," said McGonagall, "But for the moment, it is as much a mystery to us as the reason behind the strange color of her eyes. Regardless, the girl must continue to learn."

"She shall," Snape assured her.

"In the meantime," McGonagall continued, her tone brightening, "She seems to have become fast friends with one of our students."

"Dare I ask?" he snarked. Judging from Sarah's quasi-adoption by Gryffindor and the fact that she was now living in the Room of Requirement, he could hazard a guess.

"Mr. Potter has taken quite a shine to her," said McGonagall, "And was even able to solve our little dilemma of where she was to stay."

Snape remained silent.

"She reminds him of himself, I think," McGonagall said thoughtfully with a smile. "When he came to this school, he was no better off than she is about knowing things of the magical world. She is parentless, friendless, and clueless, just as he was. I think on some small level, even if he does not realize it himself, this is part of the reason why he is so eager to help her."

"He is _still_ clueless," Snape rolled his eyes. Anger then bubbled up inside him. He could not help wondering if the boy had told her anything about him. If he knew what was good for him, he wouldn't have.

"I know how you still feel about him, Severus," said McGonagall. "But even you cannot deny that having friends here will be a great asset to her."

"She has a teacher," Snape said harshly, "That's all she needs. She does not need to go gallivanting about with Potter. What if someone were to find out about her circumstances, or her eyes?"

"Yes, she _does_ need a teacher, Severus, and she has that in you it seems," McGonagall replied, raising an eyebrow at him. He had sounded somewhat protective. "But she also needs _friends_, Severus. People to teach her the things that you may not teach her. Simple things. Everyday things. If anything, they will only serve to make _your_ job easier. And I see no reason why anyone should find out more than they need to know about her, or about her eyes. She already knows how strange everything about her sounds to anyone here, and I highly doubt she wishes to draw attention to herself."

"I suppose," he admitted quietly.

The pair continued walking together and conversing for a short while longer. During the moments of silence that would fall, Snape was trying to suppress the confusing feelings of anger that would surface as he imagined Sarah walking alongside a miniature James Potter.

* * *

Sarah awoke around ten the next morning. She had managed to sleep straight through breakfast. For some reason, she had slept quite fitfully during the night, after her encounter with Snape. It was ridiculous to think that Snape might have kissed her, or even wanted to. All the same, Sarah _had_ seen his eyes dart down toward her lips once, just as hers had been doing to his. Everything about the situation was extremely confusing. She had spent quite a while lying in bed thinking about it before she had finally been able to fall asleep.

As she got dressed for the day, she noticed a small scrap of parchment on her night stand. Picking it up, she examined it. They were the directions to Hagrid's that Harry had left her. She read them over a couple times. They did not seem too complicated. She was getting more and more familiar with the castle every day. At the bottom of the directions, Harry had scribbled an additional note:

_P.S.:  
Don't be frightened. Hagrid wouldn't show you anything particularly dangerous on your first lesson... I hope.  
Come and see us afterward._

_~Harry  
_

This had only served to make her even _more_ frightened. Thinking to herself that she really should have asked Harry what exactly a Buckbeak was, she folded up the parchment and pocketed it.

Bored, she spent the next hour or so perusing the textbooks in her room. Having mastered the levitation charm that Snape had taught her, she was excited about what she might learn to do with her wand next. At the same time, she was anxious about being alone with Snape all evening. Trying to take her mind off of it, she kept trying to focus extra hard on the books in front of her. Unfortunately, she would end up staring blankly at the pages while her mind wandered back to the mystery that was Snape.

About an hour later, after putting on an extra layer and bundling up with her Gryffindor scarf, she set out for Hagrid's.

* * *

After having finished Potions, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were settling in back in the common room. The fire was roaring, and they took their usual places on the comfortable furniture in front of it. Harry kept glancing at his watch, wondering what time Sarah might be getting back from Hagrid's. Hermione noticed this.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked him.

"Oh," said Harry, looking up at her, "I told Sarah to come see us after she's done with Hagrid."

_"Hagrid?"_ Hermione repeated, looking at him harshly.

"Yeah, I took her to meet him last night. She needed a bit of cheering up after the story I told her," he explained. "She's going to take a few lessons with him. Why?"

"Because I bet she's going to know who to blame if she comes up here missing a few fingers and an eye, that's why," she huffed.

"She'll be fine, Hermione, Hagrid wouldn't-,"

"Hagrid doesn't know that she's only been a witch for a few days, Harry," she pressed. "You had better hope that he doesn't show her anything she's not ready for."

"I'd like to see her face if Hagrid has her feeding Blast-Ended Skrewts," Ron grinned.

Harry bit the inside of his mouth. He was a little nervous now. Maybe he shouldn't have so hastily insisted that Sarah take a couple lessons with Hagrid; he _did_ have a tendency to get a little overzealous, even with experienced students. Taking a deep breath, he tried to assure himself that Sarah would be absolutely fine when she walked through the portrait hole.

While thinking to himself, Harry hadn't noticed that Hermione had not immediately taken out something to start working on, as she always did. Instead, she sat staring thoughtfully into the fire. A few minutes passed before anyone spoke again. Hermione took a quick look around the room, to be sure that it was completely empty except for them.

"I've been thinking," she started.

"That's extremely unusual," said Ron, in his best serious-sounding tone. Distracted from his own thoughts, Harry looked over at Hermione again. She gave a little smile and nudged Ron playfully.

"I've been thinking," she started again, "About Sarah."

"What about her?" Harry asked.

"The more and more I think about it, the more suspicious it all seems," Hermione explained. Both Harry and Ron nodded in agreement. "From what you told us, Harry, I'm certain that all those people at her school were Obliviated after what she did with the tree."

"That's what it sounded like to me," said Harry.

"But why, then," she continued, "Did no one ever approach her? I'm almost certain that _someone_ has to have known she was a witch. The whole incident was quite neatly swept under the rug in less than a day. All those people had their memories modified. That's not an easy job to do so quickly." Hermione's brows were furrowed in thought. She was still staring into the fire.

"What do you think, then?" Harry asked, leaning forward. Hermione could always pull answers out of anywhere, and he was quite eager to have the situation explained.

"I'm not sure _what_ to think," she stated. "None if it makes any sense. But I think I might have an idea that might let us find out a bit more."

"What's that?" Harry asked raptly. Ron was listening quite intently as well. Hermione took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts.

"Well," she started, "You already know about the Obliviator Headquarters at the Ministry, in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes."

"What's this got to do with the Ministry?" Ron asked, sounding a little disgusted. He was quite keen on never having anything to do with the Ministry of Magic ever again.

"It's got _everything_ to do with the Ministry, if I'm right, Ronald," she snapped. Ron shrunk back a little bit before she continued. "Whenever memory modifications are performed like that on Muggles, they have to keep a record of it. Especially a memory modification on a large scale."

"But she was in America, Hermione," said Harry. "You really think the Ministry could have been there?"

"The Ministry is everywhere, Harry," said Hermione. "America, and most other countries, don't have anything nearly as organized or as powerful as the Ministry of Magic here in Britain. Some of them have their own Ministries, of sorts, but nothing like ours. As such, the Ministry has contacts all around the world, with the Department of International Magical Cooperation. They keep tabs on all the goings-on in the magical world outside of Britain. If a large-scale memory modification were performed on Muggles somewhere else, they would know."

"They would?" Harry asked, slightly irked at the idea of the Ministry having the entire magical world under some sort of surveillance.

"Yes, they would," she insisted. "They would know, and even if they weren't the ones who did it, they would have to make a record of it. Those records are probably in London, at the Obliviator Headquarters."

"So what are you saying?" asked Ron, wanting to get to the bottom of her explanation.

"I'm saying," Hermione continued, "That the Ministry might have a record of that incident. If we can get a look at that record, it might prove whether or not anyone knew she was a witch in the first place. If it _does_ prove that someone knew, then I'm afraid it only further begs the question of why she wasn't approached."

Harry had to admit that this was a brilliant idea. He hadn't thought of that at all. Unfortunately, like Ron, he was also quite keen on steering clear of messing with the Ministry again. Ministry policy had done a complete turnaround after Voldemort's defeat, when Kingsley was made Minister. Kingsley was trying his best to right all the wrongs that had been made in the past several years.

Still, Harry didn't fancy the idea of walking into the Ministry itself and trying to clandestinely get his hands on another piece of information that may or may not be classified. Maybe his standing in the Wizarding world, which was finally universally respected and no longer doubted, would be enough for him to access the information if he asked to. He doubted it, and wasn't all too thrilled to try and find out.

"You could be right, Hermione," Harry said at last. "But I'm also guessing they don't just let people walk in and snoop around in those records as if it were some sort of library, and I think we've had enough Ministry misadventures for a lifetime."

"That's most likely the case, yes," Hermione admitted. She then signed. "I do bet they have a record of it, and it would sure answer a lot of questions."

"Yeah but it might ask even _more_ questions at the same time, like you said," Ron reminded her. Hermione nodded.

The three sat in a contemplative silence for a few minutes.

"Do you reckon we should tell her?" Ron spoke up, looking from Hermione to Harry, and back again.

"I don't think so," said Harry, "Not yet anyway. I told her a bit about the Ministry when I explained everything to her, but I don't think she would fully understand everything about it just yet."

"I agree," said Hermione. "She probably doesn't even know what 'Obliviate' even means yet. If we tell her what we suspect, she might just become frightened by the idea that someone may have been watching her and covered up the whole fiasco, but didn't approach her either. That wouldn't do her any good right now."

"No more good than feeding Blast-Ended Skrewts might do her, though," said Ron.

Harry smirked at him.

"I'm sure Hagrid isn't showing her Skrewts, Ron," he said. "I don't even think he has any left, remember?"

"Yeah, I'm glad the little buggers killed each other off," said Ron. "Saved me the trouble."

Just then, the portrait hole swung open. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all turned their heads toward it.

In stepped an extremely disheveled looking Sarah. Her hair was much more wild than usual, and her Gryffindor scarf was blown back. She had smudges of dirt on her cheeks, as well as her robes. There were even some small twigs, leaves, and blades of grass poking out from her clothing and hair. She was very pale. Aside from her appearance being in disarray and having an expression on her face that may have resembled the one she had worn when she'd first seen a ghost, she didn't look any worse for wear. From what Harry could see, all of her limbs and digits were intact. He let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Without saying anything, Sarah drifted over to the fire and plopped down quite heavily onto the empty couch across from Ron and Hermione. Hermione looked concerned. Ron looked amused. When she sat down, she stared blankly ahead and remained silent.

"What's happened to you?" Ron asked, trying quite hard not to laugh.

"Buckbeak," she croaked.

"Oh, _surely_ he didn't," said Hermione, whose eyes widened as she brought her hands to cover her mouth.

Harry, still looking Sarah over, spoke up.

"What about Buckbeak, Sarah?" he asked, even though he already had a strong suspicion of what might have happened.

"Well," Sarah began, still staring blankly ahead and her voice quiet. Her eyes were very wide. "Hagrid brought Buckbeak around. Told me a little bit about hippogriffs. Then he taught me how to approach him. So I bowed to Buckbeak, just like Hagrid told me to. And he let me walk up to him and pet him... and then... and then...," she became quiet.

"And then?" Ron pressed.

"And then Hagrid sort of just lifted me up and sat me right down on Buckbeak's back, slapped him on the rump... and off we went." Sarah sounded as if she were still in disbelief.

Hermione suddenly looked a little queasy.

Ron chortled. Harry could not help himself either, and laughed a little. He recalled the similar experience he had upon his first meeting with Buckbeak. He approached and patted the animal, but wasn't expecting to be taken for a wild ride through the air on its back. Harry had already been quite used to flying on brooms by that time, however, and he quickly came to enjoy riding on Buckbeak. Sarah, he knew, had probably never flown on anything besides a Muggle airplane. He definitely understood why she looked so very shocked.

"Did you stay on?" Ron asked through his laughter.

"Yeah," said Sarah, shifting her eyes to look at him, "Until the end, at least. Luckily I've ridden horses before, and it turned out not being so different... until we landed."

"You fell off?" Hermione gasped.

Sarah nodded slowly.

"I lost my balance when we landed," she continued, "And I fell off. Luckily we were already on the ground. It wasn't any worse than falling from a horse... but that's not exactly fun either. I sort of just laid there on the ground on my back staring up at the sky. I was so shocked. Hagrid thought I was seriously hurt for a minute."

"You're not, are you?" Hermione sounded quite concerned. Sarah shook her head.

"I'm fine. Just some scrapes and bruises. I don't think I'll be asking Hagrid to try _that_ again any time soon, though," Sarah sighed. Seeing Ron and Harry's amused expressions, she smiled a little.

"We'll have to get her on a broom sometime, mate," Ron laughed, looking at Harry. "Blimey, that will seem like a picnic to her after what her _first_ flying experience was."

"That's probably right, Ron," Harry smiled.

"I think I'll be staying grounded for a while, thanks," Sarah said, smiling.

"Don't worry, I'll keep you company," Hermione assured her.

Safely back on the ground, Sarah enjoyed the rest of the afternoon in the company of her friends. All the while, she was trying to keep her mind off the anxiety she felt about her quickly approaching lesson with Snape later in the evening. At suppertime, she was thinking she would rather gladly have another ride on Buckbeak instead.

* * *

At seven, Sarah was standing in the dungeons, in front of the door to Snape's office. She had spent some time after supper freshening up, so as not to appear as if she had just fallen off of a hippogriff. Hoping she had done enough, she took a deep breath to steady herself. She was very nervous about what Snape might have in store for her this evening, and not just in terms of her actual lesson. She knocked twice.

"Enter," Snape called from within.

Sarah stepped inside and softly shut the door behind her. The office looked exactly the same, perhaps except for it being a little brighter than before. Snape was seated at his parchment-covered desk, as always. He looked up at Sarah as she entered. As soon as she felt his eyes on her, her breath seemed to catch, and her pulse quickened. All she could think about was the way those eyes had looked last night, so very close to her, and staring into her own. Swallowing hard, Sarah mustered her courage and slowly approached his desk.

"Good evening, Miss Garrend," Snape said casually, his eyes still on her. She already seemed very determined to avoid eye contact. Snape smirked.

"Good evening, Professor," Sarah replied, her voice soft.

Snape rose from his desk. When Sarah looked up and saw that he was still looking at her, she quickly looked away again. He then strode around to the front of his desk, where he had placed a few ordinary-looking flasks.

"As I promised we would begin some more complicated wandwork this evening, I thought we would try your hand at the three simple spells that you witnessed me perform on your first night here," said Snape, motioning to the flasks. Sarah drew her wand out from inside her robes. "I believe these spells prudent for you to learn as quickly as possible, as you already seem quite adept in your skill to break things and create messes."

Sarah colored a little, remembering how she had shattered the flask he had held to her lips as she laid in bed. Snape picked up one of the flasks and handed it to her. He did this quickly enough that she did not have time to adjust and avoid him; he made quite certain to brush her hand as much as possible, taking note as she shivered slightly.

"If you would, please demonstrate the aforementioned prodigious skills so we may begin," said Snape.

"You... want me to _break_ it? On purpose?" asked Sarah. It seemed strange for him to be _asking_ her to go ahead and break things.

"How _else_ do you suggest I teach you to mend things, Miss Garrend?" he said, giving her an impatient glare. "Now stop asking foolishly obvious questions and break the damned flask before I break it for you."

Sarah turned toward the door and lobbed the flask. It fell to the floor in the middle of the room, shattering completely. Its contents, a mystery to her, spilled out onto the floor.

"Well done," Snape said sarcastically.

"What was inside it?" Sarah asked.

"Just plain water," he replied. "I would not put any dangerous substances into a flask which I planned on having you toss around my office. Now observe." He walked closer to where the flask had fallen, being sure to step aside so Sarah could have a complete view of what he would show her. He removed his wand from his robes. Sarah watched him intently, still a bit of color in her face. She wondered if she would ever be able to look normal again in this man's presence.

"The first spell," Snape continued, "Is a simple cleaning charm. It is a very frequently practiced spell, useful to clean up most minor messes. Should you ever spill ink, water, or create any other kind of mess, this spell will be of great use to you. I will use it to clear up the water that was inside the flask."

He pointed his wand to the wet, shattered mess on the floor.

_"Scourgify."_

The water cleaned itself up, leaving only the shattered flask resting on the now-dried section of floor.

"The second spell," he continued, "Is a simple repairing charm. This is also a very frequently practiced spell. It can be used to easily repair any number of simple, non-magical objects. If you were to break a glass, or accidently tear up a book, you would use this spell to fix them. Powerful magical objects are unaffected by this spell."

Wand still pointing at the shattered flask, he gave it another flick.

_"Reparo."_

The flask jumped back into its original, unbroken form.

"The final spell I will be attempting to teach you this evening," he continued, "Is a summoning charm. It can be used to summon objects to you. It is the favorite of a lazy student who does not wish to get up and use their legs to retrieve something from the other side of the room. It _can_, however, be very useful in tight spots, where you may not have time to reach something quickly enough."

_"Accio."_

The repaired flask zoomed up toward Snape, who caught it easily in his empty hand.

"This spell," he said, striding back toward her with the empty flask in his hand. "Requires a focused connection between yourself, your wand, and the object you wish to summon to you. This is a very similar concept to the levitation charm which you have been practicing." He held the flask out to her so she could inspect it, making sure to once again brush her hand with his as much as possible.

"In addition to this," he continued, "You must be ready to deal with the object once it reaches you. In this case, it required me being ready to catch the flask. Had I been unprepared or unable to catch it, it would have shattered again if it dropped to the floor." He took the flask from her, brushing her hand again, and placed it on his desk.

"You will be attempting to learn the spells in this order," he said. "Once you have mastered one, you may move onto the next, up until the point when you can take one of these flasks, break it, clean up the water, repair it, and summon it to yourself seamlessly. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Sarah.

"Good," said Snape. "We will not be breaking any more flasks until you can master the cleansing charm. Please move to stand nearer the door, facing my desk. I will create a small puddle of water on the floor, and you will attempt to clean it up. Before you can move on, you are required to be able to clean the puddle with only one spell, not several in succession."

As Snape instructed her, Sarah took several paces away from his desk toward the door, and then turned to face his desk again. She watched as he raised his wand again, pointing it at the floor between them.

_"Aguamenti."_

A small jet of water shot forth from the wand's tip. Snape quickly stopped the spell, only creating a small burst of water, which formed into a small puddle upon the floor.

"The spoken incantation is pronounced _Scourgify_," he repeated slowly for her. "Begin."

This spell, just like the levitation charm had, proved to be quite a bit more difficult than Sarah had thought it to be. _He just makes everything look easy,_ she thought to herself. Half an hour later, she was still only able to entirely clean up the puddle with several charms cast in succession. She sincerely hoped that Snape did not expect her to pick up on everything in the blink of an eye. The fact that he did not seem to become overly impatient with her was slightly reassuring. He continued urging her to focus and concentrate harder, and really feel the connection with her wand, as well as the action she wanted to take with it.

Twenty minutes after this, and dozens of Snape's Aguamenti charms later, she had finally managed to entirely clear up the puddle in one go. Extremely pleased with herself, she smiled and looked up at Snape. He raised an eyebrow at her, and then glanced down at the floor. He could see that the puddle was completely gone, and he had only heard her cast the spell once since its creation. Looking back up and giving her a satisfactory nod, he picked up the now empty flask that he had originally demonstrated on. He lobbed it halfway toward her, and it shattered on the floor.

"The spoken incantation for the repairing charm is _Reparo_," he said, once again slowly repeating the spell aloud for her. "Begin."

This spell proved that much more difficult than the previous one. An hour's worth of practice later, she had still not managed to flawlessly repair the flask. At this point, she had grown quite frustrated. She was concentrating and focusing as hard as she thought she could. She had managed to get it to reassemble several of its pieces, but not completely repair it instantly the way Snape had shown her. Once again, he had made it look so very easy. She began stomping around and swearing a bit. Snape looked up from his paperwork and smirked at her.

"Those particular incantations, Miss Garrend, will unfortunately not aid you in your current task," he snarked. She looked up and gave him a little glare, but he only smirked back.

About ten minutes later, she had reached her boiling point. Losing her temper and not really thinking about what she was doing, she skipped ahead a step. Slashing her wand forcefully at the shattered flask, she yelled.

_"ACCIO!"_

Snape looked up as the girl yelled. His eyes widened. To his horror, he saw several large shards of broken flask soaring through the air, straight at her. He watched as she managed to shield herself with her forearms, but he heard her shriek in pain. As the spell was extremely rough and unfocused, many of the shards had missed her, but several more had shred into her robes, cutting her forearms deeply. He shot up from his chair, knocking it over in the process, and dashed over to where she stood.

With a groan, Sarah lowered her arms. They stung badly in several places, and she could feel blood starting to drip down the sleeves of her robes. She looked up just in time to see Snape towering before her, glaring down at her.

"Foolish girl!" he spat at her, quickly reaching out and grabbing one of her forearms in order to drag her toward his desk. There he might inspect the damage she had so carelessly inflicted upon herself. He only dragged her a single pace before he heard her hiss loudly in pain, and she dug her heels into the floor to stop him. He instantly let go of her arm the moment she had hissed like that.

Looking back at her, he saw that she was wearing an extremely agonized expression while looking back a him. He looked down at the hand he had grabbed her with; it was smeared with bright red blood. He sighed deeply and took a step back toward her. To his surprise, she quickly backed away from him, cradling her wounded arms. She now appeared to be scared. He cocked his head at her reaction.

Snape's expression softened a little as he regarded the frightened girl. _She is afraid that I am going to hurt her_, he thought to himself. Somehow, this thought sent a pang of sadness through his chest. Some small part of his mind urged him to quickly atone for causing her to feel this way.

"I am sorry," he said to her, his tone even, "It was not my intention to hurt you."

The girl seemed to relax a little, and lowered her arms again. Somehow, this pleased him a little. Trying to ignore this feeling, he spoke again.

"I was merely trying to bring you to my desk, in order to inspect your arms," he explained. "I apologize for my haste in doing so. If you would please approach my desk, I will have a look at your arms if you will permit me."

"Shouldn't I go see Madam Pomfrey? She-,"

Snape cut her off, but was still trying extremely hard to remain calm and patient.

"That will not be necessary," he said. "As I am always working with dangerous substances, I always keep a first-aid preparedness kit on hand. It is a long walk from here to the hospital wing. I would rather see to your wounds myself. Please," he said, motioning to his desk. He then took the extra chair in the room and set it before his desk, and moved around to take a seat in his own chair, which he first had to bring upright.

Sarah slowly approached his desk. She was extremely embarrassed. She had already managed to destroy a potion and get some of it in her eyes in the process, as well as gashing up her arms with a poorly performed summoning charm on a broken flask. All this in only three lessons. If she kept this up, she thought, Snape would probably refuse to keep teaching her.

As she moved in front of the chair, she gingerly rolled back her sleeves before sitting down. She placed her arms down on Snape's desk, stretched out toward him. He leaned forward and began inspecting them closely, running his fingers over her skin in places. Even through the pain, she trembled a little and her face colored slightly as she felt his touch. She had five gashes on her forearms; three on her right, and two on her left. He inspected her for a couple more minutes than was necessary. For some reason, he wanted to be sure that she would not shy away from his touch again.

"Nothing serious," said Snape. Sitting up, he leaned down to the side and pulled a dark colored bottle out of one of his desk drawers. "Dittany," he said, taking the dropper out of the bottle and leaning forward over Sarah's arms again, "This will cause the cuts to heal most of the way. They will continue healing naturally on their own, and there will be no scarring. The entire process will be relatively quick, but if you wish to have them disappear faster, Madam Pomfrey might be able to speed it up for you."

"That's fine," she said quietly, warily eyeing the liquid-filled dropper in his right hand.

"This may sting a little," he said. When she nodded silently, he looked up at her. He could see her anxious expression as she regarded the dropper in his hand. Furrowing his brows a little and not knowing what urged him to do so, he gently took a hold of her right hand with his left. She had balled both hands into fists, and he was able to rest his larger hand over it. _Merely to keep her still,_ he thought to himself.

When he did this, Sarah looked up at him, blushing quite furiously. He was now focused on her forearm, raising the dropper above her cuts. His hand felt very warm on hers. Watching his focused expression, she was too far distracted to feel the sting of the dittany as he dripped it into her wounds. He repeated this action with her left arm, resting his left hand over her fist, and applying the dittany while she was distracted.

When he moved away to seal the bottle again, she looked down at her arms. Her cuts no longer appeared fresh. They now looked as if they were several days old, and almost completely healed. Since they just _had_ been fresh, there was still some fresh not-yet dried blood on her arms.

Snape leaned down, replacing the bottle of dittany back in the drawer it had come from. He then rose from the desk and strode around it, exiting the room through the door which led into his private quarters. Sarah watched his robes trail out of the room as he left, tilting her head a little.

"Stay there," he called back at her, almost as if he had sensed her confusion.

Not even a minute later, Snape returned and sat down at the desk once more, placing a small bowl on it. The bowl was filled with steaming yellow-tinted liquid, and there was a small wash towel hanging out of it. Before Sarah could ask what he was doing, Snape had again taken hold of her right fist with his left hand. With his right, he took the wash towel from the bowl and squeezed the excess liquid out of it. Leaning back toward her arms, he began gently dabbing the blood off. Sarah watched him, wide-eyed. Her face felt hot.

"Does this hurt?" he asked softly, not looking up from his work.

Sarah, unable to speak, shook her head back and forth silently. He took her lack of a reply to mean 'no'.

Finished with her right arm, he dipped the towel back into the bowl and repeated the process with her left. The yellow liquid in the bowl had grown slightly pink with her blood.

When he had finished, Snape again left the room, taking with him the towel and the bowl. This left Sarah still sitting at his desk, staring down at her arms, quite shocked. There was a strange feeling somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Snape had not only just taken care of her cuts, but had gone out of his way to clean the blood off of her arms. What had possessed him to take such care with her? From what she knew of him, the only thing he cared for was himself. This was extremely strange.

She had expected him to be furious with her, and by all rights, he had been. But that was only until he had grabbed her arm roughly, and then realized that he had hurt her. Sarah's mind was racing. Was _that_ what had caused the sudden change in his demeanor? Accidentally hurting her? Sarah's face still felt very hot. He did not seem like a gentle man at all. Through all the pain, and then shock and confusion, she had still all but melted at his inexplicably gentle touch.

A minute later, Snape reentered the room. He took his seat at the desk, and appeared as if he were continuing with his paperwork. After a moment or two, he looked up at the girl who was still sitting there dumbstruck. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well?" he said, his voice back to its usual sharp tone.

Sarah flinched a little and looked up at him.

"What?" she gasped out.

"I believe you were working on learning a spell before all this happened, Miss Garrend?" he asked sarcastically.

"Oh!" she said. For some reason, she could not seem to remember what had happened only minutes ago. Snape's treatment of her at his desk had made everything else that happened previously into a blank.

She shot out of her chair and moved back across the room. She was fairly surprised. _He's going to let me stay after I managed to hurt myself like that?_ she thought to herself. When she reached the other side of the room, she stooped down to the floor and began picking up all the shards she could find. Holding them carefully, she moved back to Snape's desk and placed them in a pile there.

"I don't know if that's all of them," she said.

Snape nodded, not looking up from his work.

"Take another flask and begin again," he said.

Sarah continued her work. As angry as she had been before managing to hurt herself, she was now quite subdued. She was thoroughly surprised by Snape's gentle treatment of her. Continuing to work calmly, she was able to fully repair the flask within another half an hour of practice. When Snape had seen her accomplish this, he looked up at her.

"Good," he said. "Now summon it, and please try not to injure yourself again while doing so."

Sarah was able to get the hang of the summoning charm fairly quickly. As Snape had already explained, it was a similar concept to the levitation charm that she had already developed skills with. He looked up at her again.

"Now try the whole thing," he said, "And make sure to summon the flask _after_ you have repaired it, please."

Sarah's blush, which had mostly faded while she concentrated on working, renewed itself.

It took her a while longer to be able to perform the entire sequence of spells on the flask filled with water. It proved more difficult to clear the water away with the broken pieces of the flask resting in it. Once she had managed to do this, she quickly managed to repair the flask, and then summon it to her. She grinned widely at her success of having learned three new spells in a single evening, even if she had managed to cut herself up along the way. Moving back to Snape's desk, she placed the empty, repaired flask upon it, smiling proudly. He looked up at her finished work.

"Good work, Miss Garrend," he said. "As it has grown quite late, I believe that will conclude our lesson for this evening. Please try to be more careful next time. I do not wish to have to start holding our lessons in the hospital wing."

Sarah was about to exit the office, but stopped at the door when she heard Snape's chair scraping the floor as he rose from the desk. She turned back to him, seeing him moving out from behind the desk and walking slowly to where she stood.

"I will escort you," he insisted. There could be no arguing with _that_. He knew that in her determinedness not to look at him the past two nights as he escorted her back, she had not managed to memorize the route. He doubted tonight would be any different.

As they walked together, Sarah did not seem quite as skittish to him. There were even a few times it looked as if she wanted to look at him and say something to him, but she remained silent. Snape found this intriguing. He had assumed that she would be acting the same way as the previous two nights, especially after what she had done in this evening's lesson. Instead, she walked quite calmly, perhaps even a tiny bit closer to him, and looking ahead of her instead of away. She seemed to no longer be as frightened of him. The truth was, she was trying to find the right words to thank him for what he had done for her, but she could not find any.

When they reached the seventh floor corridor, Sarah stepped forward and paced back and forth before the blank stretch of wall until her familiar door appeared. Instead of lunging for the doorknob as she had done last night, she simply looked up at Snape. He slowly stepped forward and turned the knob, opening the door for her. She stepped toward him, looking up at him shyly. She was still trying to find the right words, but could not seem to locate any. She drew in a breath and was just about to speak and give it a try, but he spoke for her.

"Before you retire for the evening," he said smoothly, "I would like to examine your arms once more, and then your eyes. Just to be safe."

"Alright," she replied softly, moving to stand in the light that was flooding out of her room.

Snape first took a hold of her left forearm, raising it up to inspect it in the light. The cuts still looked mostly healed, and all the blood was gone. Satisfied, he lowered it and then took a hold of her right. Instead of lowering it when he was finished, as he had done with her left, he gave her hand a tug and used it to pull her close to him. Sarah gasped slightly; she was almost against his chest. Looking up slowly, she could see his deep black eyes staring down into her own, his expression unreadable.

"Now your eyes," he said softly, bringing his left hand to tilt her chin up as he had done before. She had already been looking up at him. There had been no need to do this. There was no denying it for himself this time; he had simply wanted an excuse to touch her again, and to see how she would react. He could not possibly fathom what compelled him to want to touch and be close to the young witch standing before him.

Her reaction was much the same as last night. She trembled slightly, and blushed prettily. Her face felt hot. She strongly suspected that she had seen much more of this other, different, kinder Snape tonight alone than most people who knew him had seen in their entire lives. She could not understand why, just as much as he could not understand what strange force was compelling him to do it.

He continued gazing into her eyes. He could see that they were making the same movements they had last night; down to his lips and back up again. He was trying to read her, and an internal dialogue started up in his mind.

_Yes. She wants this. Dare he?_

_No. It would be highly inappropriate._

_Why? She is old enough._

_She is your student._

_She is __**not**__ a student of this school._

_She is still your student._

_She is friends with Potter._

_So?_

_Going to let Potter steal this one away then too, are we?_

_He is not his father._

_He's close enough._

_He is seeing the Weasley girl, anyway._

_It does not matter. He's Potter._

_This is still highly inappropriate._

_She is attracted to me._

_She can't be. You are not attractive. You are far too old for her._

_She is, look at her. See how she blushes, and trembles at my touch._

_She is merely frightened._

_No. She wants this._

_You are far too old for her._

_**She**__ doesn't seem to care. I surely don't._

_You would be a fool to do this._

_I would be a fool __**not**__ to do this._

_She is not Lily._

_I don't care._

_You would be taking advantage of her trust._

_She would still trust me._

_Why are you even attracted to her?_

_I don't know. I just am._

_You are a fool._

_Shut it!_

Wincing, Snape managed to silence his mind. He tried to push everything out. It did not matter that she was technically his student in some form. It did not matter that he was a good twenty years her senior. Nothing mattered but the young, attractive, willing witch standing in front of him, looking up at him and blushing so deeply.

"Your eyes are fine," he said softly, but did not release her or step away. Again, he leaned closer to her experimentally. She did not move away. They were only about an inch apart now. He could see the pulse pounding in her neck.

Leaning forward and closing the remaining distance between them, he closed his eyes. Once again, she did not back away. He softly brushed his lips against hers. She trembled as a shock of adrenaline shot through her system, her eyes closed as well. Pushing slightly against her, they began a soft, tentative, shallow kiss. Sarah held her breath as she kissed him, drowning in his intoxicating scent.

Believing the girl had been through enough for one night, Snape slowly withdrew from her. Had he not moved away, he was afraid of just how deep he might make that kiss, or how far he would make it go. His mind was right about one thing; he did not want to betray her trust, or push her too far. He was surprised that she hadn't shoved him away, slapped him, and called him a dirty lecher. One soft kiss had been enough to test the waters for now. Tomorrow evening, after all, would perhaps provide a whole new sea of waters on which to sail. That is, of course, if she could bear to face him after having allowed him to kiss her, and having kissed him back.

Sarah's eyes opened after a couple of seconds. Her vision seemed hazy. She almost felt like she was drunk. Snape, still holding Sarah's hand in his, bent down slightly and brought her hand up to his mouth. He placed a soft kiss upon it, and straightened up again.

"Good night, Miss Garrend," he purred at her. Gently releasing her hand, he turned and slowly walked off down the corridor. The corner of his lips had twisted into a self-satisfied little smirk.

Sarah was left standing quite paralyzed in her doorway. Her heart was racing.

_Snape just kissed me. Snape just kissed me._

She thought this over and over again in her mind. If she'd had a hard time believing that Snape had cared for her injuries in such a tender way, she must have been very certain that she was currently dreaming. He had just kissed her, as he seemed to have wanted to do the night before.

_Snape just kissed me._

_And I liked it._


	10. Powerful Forces

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 10: Powerful Forces.

* * *

Sarah spent much of the following day attempting to avoid her friends. She was concerned that she would not be able to act normally in their presence after what happened with Snape last night. She would probably look even more shocked and dazed than she had after returning from her ride on Buckbeak. This might arouse their suspicion, and they might start asking questions. Then she might end up having to admit to them that she had kissed one of their teachers. Thinking it safest to steer clear of that potentially awkward situation, she remained in her room for most of the day.

Not having much to do while she was shutting herself in, she first spent some time practicing with the spells that she had learned so far. She had gotten reasonably proficient with them. Satisfied with her spellwork for the moment, she again began perusing the selection of books that her room had created for her. Picking out a medium-sized book which claimed to be full of detailed information about a wide array of spells, she sat upon her bed and began reading.

She leafed through the book casually, not focusing on anything in particular in too much detail. When she came across a section of the book entitled _Mind-Affecting Spells_, she became more interested and began to read it carefully. The Imperius Curse sounded very frightening, but it was another spell that attracted her attention. She could vaguely recall something that Snape had said in front of her, on her very first night in the hospital wing...

_"I have no idea how she came to be here, but we need to Obliviate her immediately and return her to wherever she came from."_

Obliviate. Sarah still did not know what this meant, and being so completely overwhelmed by everything, she had neglected to ask. Snape had wanted to have her Obliviated when she first arrived at Hogwarts, when he still thought she was a Muggle. What could this mean? _It sounds painful,_ she thought to herself. Having found the same word in the section about Mind-Affecting Spells, she read the passage carefully.

_**Obliviate: Memory-Modifying Charm.**_

_The Obliviate charm is a Memory-Modifying charm that can be used to modify or blank a person's memory of a particular incident. The use of this spell is highly regulated, as it is difficult to perform with no adverse consequences on the receiver. Poorly performed Obliviations can result in permanent, irreversible damage to the mind. For this reason, it is ideally only performed by professional Obliviators with the Obliviator Headquarters, centered in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes at the Ministry of Magic._

_The most common use of this spell is to blank or modify the memories of Muggles who have inadvertently witnessed or been affected by magical events. This is taken care of by professional Obliviators with the Ministry. The spell has, however, been used illegally by witches or wizards in order to cover up crimes._

"Ahh, I see," she said to herself as she read the passage. She understood now. Had she been a Muggle, Snape wanted to have her memory blanked. This would insure that she wouldn't run around blabbing about what she had seen. That made sense, she thought to herself. It must be a tough job to keep the entire magical world a complete secret from Muggles.

Thinking a bit harder about what she had read, something about the passage struck her. Narrowing her eyes at the page, she re-read the short passage describing the Obliviation charm's chief use.

"The most common use of this spell is to blank or modify the memories of Muggles who have inadvertently witnessed or been affected by magical events. This is taken care of by professional Obliviators with the Ministry," she quietly read aloud to herself.

So there were professional people whose job it was to go around blanking and modifying the memories of Muggles who saw magic. Afterward, they would no longer have a memory of the incident, or have a completely modified version that would fit a logical Muggle explanation. This sounded awfully familiar to her. Running her fingers over the words on the page, she furrowed her brows.

When she had been a child and performed unintentional magic on the tree in the field at her school, the aftermath of the event had been just as mysterious for her as the event itself. She recalled how no one at the school had any memory of it, even the children who had been attacked. These children had also been completely healed, just as she had been by Madam Pomfrey. To top it all off, everyone at the school seemed to be under the impression that there had never been a tree there in the first place.

When she had described the incident to Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, she knew nothing of magic. Honestly, she did not know all that much more about it now. There was so much to know. She simply assumed that the magic she had inadvertently performed somehow produced the effect. No one could remember anything about it. Either that, or they were pretending not to. She had tried to forget about it herself, but it was all too real. She knew it had been real, even if she did not want to admit it.

The spell she had just read about added a whole new line to the equation. A big line. And none of it had ever added up to begin with.

She was sitting up in bed, the book spread open in her lap. She was staring quite blankly at the wall across from her as she thought.

_That's not possible,_ she thought to herself. Could it be that all of those people at her school had their memories modified? It seemed so unlikely. She had never known anything about the magical world, and she had never been approached; the idea of an elite task force of memory-modifiers showing up at her school, immediately after the incident, seemed ridiculous. At the same time, it would certainly easily explain the phenomenon of no one having any memory of it.

Save for her.

No one had ever attempted to modify _her_ memory of the incident. Only everyone else's. And they had done a completely thorough job, if this was indeed the case. Maybe they had missed her? She _had_ fled from the scene right after it happened...

_No,_ she thought to herself. _The book said these people are professionals. If they ever missed anyone, Muggles everywhere would find out about magic._

Then why had _her_ memory never been modified? She could recall the entire thing flawlessly, and it was undeniable that she had performed magic.

Her train of thought continued to barrel onward.

If they had shown up so quickly, they must have known exactly what happened. Was there some way witches and wizards could tell who had performed magic, and where? She had no idea. Did this spell really explain what happened?

Her thoughts were sharply interrupted by a knock on her door. Looking toward it, she quickly shot up and closed the book. She tossed the book onto her bed where it landed very askew, and she ran to the door. Opening it, she saw Harry.

"Oh, hey Harry," she said, stepping back from the door and allowing him to enter. Harry walked a little ways into the room, but left the door open behind him. This gave the impression that he was just popping in.

"Hello Sarah," he said, looking her over. "We haven't seen you all day," he explained, "Hermione sent me up to check that you're alright. She's still a bit worried about you having fallen off of Buckbeak. She disapproves of my idea to have you take lessons with Hagrid."

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she said quickly. "Just fine. I just felt like staying in today, that's all," she stammered, looking a little flustered. Harry tilted his head at her. He could tell something about her was slightly off.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked. He then scanned the room to see if he could locate the source of her apparent distress. Nothing was amiss or out of place, except for a book lying in an awkward position on her bed, as if it had been hastily tossed aside.

"Yeah, I'm sure, Harry. Just fine," Sarah tried to assure him. "I'll come down to dinner later, okay?"

"If you say so," he said, giving her a small nod. He did not believe her, and his eyes were still full of concern. "I'll see you later, then." He turned to leave the room, but Sarah stopped him just before he could step out the door.

_Maybe Harry would know,_ she thought to herself.

"Harry, wait a second," Sarah said anxiously.

Harry stopped in his tracks and faced her again.

"Hm?"

"I was just wondering," she began, trying to sound as smooth as possible, "Is there any way that someone can tell if you've done magic? Or where? Or even when?"

"Sort of," Harry replied. "The Ministry puts something called a Trace on underage witches and wizards. They're not supposed to do magic outside of school. That way, the Ministry can figure out of they've performed underage magic. It can't tell exactly who performs the magic, it just lets them know where it happened. It goes away once they turn seventeen. You don't need to worry about that, though, you're already old enough to do magic anywhere you like. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I was just wondering. That's all," she quickly replied. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Alright," Harry said, still regarding her with concern. Why had she wanted to know that so suddenly? Before turning to leave again, he eyed the book which was splayed awkwardly on her bed.

As soon as Harry shut the door, Sarah darted back to her bed and picked up the book. Riffling through the pages, she opened to the section where she had read about Obliviation. Looking it over again, she thought about what Harry had told her.

She hadn't been born in this country, where the Ministry was. It was impossible that she could have had a Trace applied to her, wasn't it? It had to be impossible. Yet _somehow_, what she had accidently done with the tree was neatly covered up, and quickly. Perhaps there was some sort of Wizarding authority in America, and _they_ had applied the Trace to her?

If all those Muggles _had_ been Obliviated, Sarah could think of only two explanations of how it had happened, and happened so very fast: Either a witch or wizard had been watching her and was immediately able to alert the proper authority to the goings-on, or she had some kind of Trace on her.

Either option was equally disconcerting.

If she was being watched, then someone must have known that she was a witch. Someone must have seen her perform that magic. Why, then, did no one from the magical community ever approach her to inform her of this?

If she had some kind of Trace on her, then someone must have already known that she was a witch from the very beginning.

She still did not understand a whole lot about the magical world. Harry had told her a little bit about the Ministry of Magic, but she did not fully understand how it worked, or everything it did. She did not know what this Ministry was capable of. Had it been professional Obliviators who payed a visit to her school?

She already knew her circumstances were strange. Unfortunately, they just got a whole lot stranger.

* * *

Harry was slowly on his way back to the Gryffindor common room after his short visit with Sarah. As he walked along, he was thinking to himself. Sarah had seemed distressed about something, but about what, Harry did not know. Nothing about her outward appearance gave him any clues. She did appear to be just fine, and wholly uninjured after falling off the hippogriff. This would put Hermione's fears to rest.

Harry, on the other hand, only grew more worried. She didn't seem to be acting normal; it appeared as if she had been avoiding them all day, staying shut up in her room. She seemed out of sorts about something. From the looks of the book tossed onto her bed, she had been reading before Harry came knocking. He had noticed the book, but hadn't gotten a good enough look at it to be able to read its title or see what it was about. He wondered what she could have been reading about. Maybe something she had read about magic distressed her in some way.

Strangest of all, she had suddenly asked Harry about wether or not witches or wizards could somehow tell if someone else did magic. He had then told her briefly about the Trace, but he could not see why she would have suddenly become concerned with wether or not anyone knew she was doing magic. She was, after all, in the middle of a highly renowned school of it. There was no safer place in the world to do magic than Hogwarts. Why would she have started wondering about this, and asked him? Something obviously had her worried.

Harry was unable to come up with an answer. If she were worried that badly about something, he was confident that she would tell him about it. Maybe she would say something about it at dinner. At any rate, he would have to tell Hermione about it. She had been the one that sent him up there in the first place. She was completely uninjured, but Hermione would want to hear that she had been distressed, especially if there was a book involved in it.

* * *

At dinner, Sarah was no less distressed than Harry had seen her earlier in the afternoon. In fact, she seemed even more nervous now. He had told Hermione about it, but they did not press the issue. If she wanted to ask or tell them something, she would.

Sarah had barely touched her food. Instead, she kept glancing around nervously. Every so often, she would ask Harry what time it was.

"What time is it, Harry?" she asked again.

Chewing a mouthful of dinner, Harry glanced down at his starry watch. Before he could swallow and answer her, Ron spoke up.

"About five minutes from the last time you asked," he said, laughing. "What's got you so worried?"

Sarah picked up her fork again, and looked down at her plate. Her face colored a little, and she poked at her food.

"Just don't want to be late, is all," she said quietly, trying to sound casual. She ate a few bites of food.

Ron recalled Harry telling him that Sarah was taking lessons with Snape every weekday evening.

"For what, your lesson with that greasy git?" he said. "Yeah, that's probably best. I bet he might try taking points away from Gryffindor if you were, or try to give you detention."

Sarah swallowed down her food, not having completely chewed it. After it went down, she started coughing. Taking a sip of water, she looked at Ron.

"He's _not_ a greasy git," she choked out, a little defensively. Ron's eyes widened.

"What do you reckon he is, then?" he said, laughing a little. He had never heard anyone defend Snape like this before. Any other students at the Gryffindor table, and any other table aside from Slytherin, would have gladly joined in poking jibes at him.

"He's...," Sarah stalled, not being able to think of anything. Harry, who was sitting next to her, leaned forward and tilted his head to look at her face. Her blush grew. "I don't know! But I don't know why you guys seem to hate him so much," she huffed.

"It's not so much that we hate him. Well," Harry almost rethought what he said; before he had learned of Snape's true allegiance and the reasons behind it, he _had_ hated him. Quite fervently, in fact. "He just hasn't exactly been very nice to us over the years. Or much of anyone for that matter, except for maybe a few Slytherins."

Sarah continued blushing and poking at her food. This was exactly the situation she had been hoping to keep herself out of all day. She was slightly relieved when Ginny arrived at the table, sitting down on Harry's other side and giving him a peck on the cheek. This drew some attention away from her defense of Snape. Harry colored a little, much like Sarah.

Quite eager to turn the conversation to something other than Snape, Sarah cleared her throat softly.

"There was actually something I wanted to ask you guys about," she said, hoping her friends would take this for the reason that she was so nervous. She didn't want them putting two and two together and finding out that she was actually nervous about going to see Snape. Ginny had turned away to chat with Neville, but Harry, Hermione, and Ron all looked up at Sarah intently.

"I was reading today, in my room," she began, "And I read about Obliviation."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other; they probably knew where this was going.

"It got me thinking," Sarah said, "What if... what if all those people, when I was a kid and accidentally did that thing with the tree... what if all of those people were Obliviated?"

"Actually, that's what we were thinking, too," Hermione admitted. "But we didn't want to tell you about it because we were afraid you wouldn't understand."

"I think I understand well enough now," said Sarah. "I read about the spell, and about how the Ministry of Magic has a division of people who do it professionally. They use it on Muggles who accidentally see something they weren't supposed to."

"That's right," said Hermione. "And they keep track of things like that all over the world."

"Someone knew what I did," Sarah said. She then turned to Harry. "That's why I asked you if there was some way to track magic. And you told me about the Trace."

Harry nodded. Ron's eyes were very wide. Sarah took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts about what she had concluded earlier. Before she could speak, Hermione jumped to the same conclusions.

"Either someone was watching you," said Hermione, looking quite thoughtful, "Or you had the Trace."

Sarah nodded vigorously at her.

"That's what I was thinking too," she said. "But then I can't understand why I lived as a Muggle my entire life. No one ever approached me. From the way things look, either way, someone _had_ to have known I was a witch."

"I don't see any other explanation for the incident, other than all those Muggles having been Obliviated. It's the only thing that could have happened," said Hermione. Both Ron and Harry nodded in agreement.

"But what does it mean?" Sarah asked. Her expression was grave and confused. "It doesn't make any sense."

"You're right, it doesn't," said Hermione. "But there may be a way to find out for sure if someone knew you were a witch or not."

"How?" Sarah asked, her voice a whisper. During the course of their conversation, all three had lowered their voices significantly. It wouldn't do for anyone to overhear any of this.

"The Obliviator Headquarters has to keep records of things like that," Hermione explained. "If there is a record of it, it would specify whether or not they knew the source of the magical disturbance, and why it happened. That might tell us."

"There's a record of it?" Sarah asked, surprised. Unfortunately for her, she didn't have the foggiest idea of how powerful or far-reaching the Ministry was.

"It sounds like a good number of people were Obliviated," said Hermione, "I don't see how there couldn't be."

Sarah looked excited. Somewhere, there could be a record that would answer so many questions.

"That's the problem, though," Harry said as he turned to Sarah, sounding grim. "You don't exactly just walk into the Ministry and start asking for their records."

Sarah's expression shifted to disappointment.

"It's all just so suspicious," Hermione sighed.

"You can say that again," said Ron.

"Maybe we should ask Professor McGonagall about it?" asked Sarah, looking around at her friends. Their expressions still looked grim. "Maybe she would know some way to get a look at it."

"I don't think she would fancy the idea of soliciting the Ministry for records about an eighteen-year-old girl who showed up on Hogwarts' doorstep, not knowing she was a witch," Harry said gravely. His eyes then widened a little, thinking a bit more carefully about what he had just said. "In fact, I don't think it's a good idea for us to be asking around about it at all, to anyone."

Sarah looked confused. She knew her circumstances were strange, but she couldn't see the harm in trying to find out more.

"Look at it this way," Harry explained, "If the Ministry _did_ happen to have something to do with that Obliviation, _and_ knew you were a witch...," Harry seemed to be fitting the strange facts together in his head as he spoke. It was like trying to jam together mismatching pieces of a jigsaw puzzle in order to form a coherent picture. It just wasn't possible.

"But no one ever approached me," Sarah said.

"Exactly," said Hermione. "If that's the case, then we don't know why. It doesn't make any sense. Things having to do with the Ministry that don't make any sense aren't usually the types of things they want you to go poking around about. Those records aren't restricted for nothing."

Sarah sighed deeply.

"If there _is_ a record of it," Hermione continued, "It will be in London, at the Ministry. Unfortunately, that places it farther out of our reach than just distance would alone."

Sarah felt terrible. She had already known her circumstances were strange, but before, she didn't have anywhere to look in order to find some answers. Now it looked as if those answers were there somewhere, but sitting just beyond her reach. This was even worse than being completely clueless.

Harry cleared his throat softly.

"We _might_ be able...," he began, but Hermione cut him off.

"_No,_ Harry. We're _not_ sneaking into the Ministry again," she said firmly.

"I'm with you there," Ron heartily agreed, recalling the two terrifying experiences he'd had while infiltrating the Ministry with Harry and Hermione. "Still don't think those brain-scars have ever completely gone away. I've got another scar from splinching my shoulder, and I don't think I'd like to get any more."

"How else are we going to find out about all this?" Harry argued. "Come on, Hermione. Kingsley is Minister now, not a de facto Voldemort. If something went wrong, I'm sure he wouldn't let anything happen to us."

Hermione sighed a little. Kingsley _was_ their friend, but she doubted that he would be willing to bypass Ministry security and break rules for them.

"I don't think it's a good idea, Harry," she said.

"I'm not saying I think it's a good idea, either," Harry pressed. "But I think that Sarah has the right to know if there are answers for her sitting there in some drawer down in London."

Sarah nodded eagerly. Hermione sighed. It would be difficult to argue with that.

Harry glanced down at his watch. It was five minutes until seven.

"We'll talk about it some more later," he said, and then turned to Sarah. Completely engrossed in their discussion about the mysteries surrounding her, she had forgotten to keep pestering Harry about the time. He raised his watch so she could see it.

When she saw the watch, her eyes widened. Harry noticed as another small blush spread across the bridge of her nose and tops of her cheeks. She gasped.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, leaping up from the table. "I'll see you guys tomorrow!" she yelled, as she sped out of the Great Hall. They all laughed as they watched Sarah hurry away in a state of panic.

Harry turned back to the table, and then turned to Ginny. He draped his arm around her shoulder and smiled at her affectionately. When she looked over at him to return his smile, he leaned into her and placed a soft kiss on her lips. She deepened the kiss a little, but Harry withdrew before it could go too far. He was at least modest enough to not be caught snogging in the middle of the Great Hall during dinner.

When he straightened up, his arm still around Ginny's shoulder, he looked thoughtfully into her face. The blush she was now wearing was oddly similar to the one he had seen on Sarah's face several times over the course of their meal. She had blushed that way when Ron asked her what she was so worried about, and she had told him that she didn't want to be late for her lesson. She had blushed even deeper when Ron had called Snape a greasy git, and she had gotten quite flustered in an attempt to defend him. When Harry had shown her what time it was, she had grown nervous and blushed slightly again. Ginny was now blushing the exact same way Sarah had.

Harry's eyes widened so much that they looked about ready to pop out.

"Oh no," he said quietly, turning back to the table and resting his head in his hands. _Oooh no..._

"What is it?" asked Ginny.

"Nothing... I hope," he sighed.

* * *

Sarah sprinted down to the dungeons. Not having a watch of her own, she had no clue what time it was. When she reached the door to Snape's office, she was too concerned with being late to remember and knock. Instead, she simply burst through the door quite loudly.

When she flung herself inside the room, she saw Snape standing in the middle of the office. There was an open book in his hands, but he was looking straight at her, one eyebrow raised extremely high. She continued standing in the doorway for several seconds, panting, and staring at him. In her haste, she had not taken the time to mentally prepare herself for being in his presence again. She was paralyzed.

"I believe it is customary to knock prior to entering someone else's chambers, Miss Garrend," he drawled at her. He then turned and walked toward his desk, placing the book down there. Facing her again, he leaned up against the desk and folded his arms over his chest. The girl still hadn't moved.

"I have already told you once before about standing in doorways not being very conducive to learning magic," he said.

Snapping back to reality, Sarah shook herself and shut the door. Still trying to catch her breath, she slowly approached where he stood, but kept a little distance. He was gazing at her with a sly sort of smugness.

_Oh no,_ she thought to herself, _I hope he isn't going to lord it over me all night because he kissed me. Oh god, he kissed me._ It was almost as if she had forgotten up until this very moment. She blushed deeply and bit down on her bottom lip hard.

"Good evening, Miss Garrend," said Snape, thoroughly amused with the girl's reactions to being in his presence.

"Good evening, Professor," she replied, her voice very soft. Her eyes were extremely focused on his boots.

She had barely noticed that tonight he was not wearing his normal teaching robes; instead, he was dressed in a rather suave-looking button down collared jacket, with trousers and high black boots. The entire ensemble was all black, but there was a bit of white peeking out from his cuffs and collar. Despite being completely clad in black on the outside, his undershirt was white.

"This evening," he said, still looking down at her, "I thought we might do something a little more... _physically engaging_," he purred.

Sarah looked up at him, wide-eyed, but then immediately looked away. His tone and choice of words had been very intentional. Watching the girl squirm with her silly attraction was entertaining him to no ends. He barely kept himself from snorting aloud with amusement.

"What do you mean, Professor?" she asked softly, extremely nervous about the answer he might give her.

"What I mean, Miss Garrend," he said, reaching toward her and using his left hand to tilt her chin up as he so enjoyed to do, "Is that tonight I will be attempting to teach you a couple spells that you might learn if you were to participate in a dueling club. And I would also appreciate it if you looked at me while I am speaking to you," he removed his hand from her. Once again, the girl had trembled at his touch.

"Sorry," she said meekly, now gazing up at him, and looking petrified. She swallowed hard. "Dueling club?" she asked. She already didn't like the idea of dueling someone else.

"I believe that is what I said," he replied. "And as this particular lesson will require a more appropriate space, we shall be going elsewhere."

He straightened up and strode past her, toward the door.

"If you would please follow me," he said, opening the door and motioning out of it.

Leaving the room with him, Sarah followed Snape has he guided her through the castle. The route they were taking seemed to be familiar to her. When they reached the same seventh floor corridor that contained her room, she became confused. She stared at the blank stretch of wall, and then looked up at Snape.

"My room?" she asked quietly. The idea of having some kind of lesson with Snape in her own room was frightening and exciting at the same time.

"Not _your_ room, Miss Garrend," replied Snape, stepping forward to the wall. "The Room of Requirement. It can become any room you need it to be." Having overheard Potter explaining the room's magic to McGonagall just after Voldemort's defeat, he knew how it worked. He had not, however, known exactly where it was until Sarah had given him a landmark by telling him about the tapestry resting on the wall across from it.

"As no one is currently inside, we will be able to change it into something else," he explained.

Sarah looked frightened.

"What about my room?" she asked. "Will it still be there afterward?"

"Yes, it will still be there," he replied. "Just the way you left it. Once we exit the room once again, you will be able to resummon the door that leads into your room the same way you always do, Miss Garrend."

Sarah watched as Snape paced back and forth in front of the wall.

_I need the place where Potter used to practice with his pathetic little club._ He repeated this over in his mind several times, concentrating hard. Soon, a set of double doors appeared. They were larger than the ornately-carved wooden door that would appear for Sarah's room, but not overly huge. Sarah's eyes widened as she saw the unfamiliar door materialize. She was awed by the amazing magic of this incredible room.

Stepping forward, Snape took a hold of one of the door handles and opened it, stepping aside for Sarah.

"After you, Miss Garrend," he said.

Thanking him softly, Sarah stepped inside. The room was high-ceilinged and huge. There were a few fireplaces lining the walls, as well as many sconces, and they were all lit, filling the room with warmth and light. Along the far wall, there were several bookcases stuffed with books, and several practice dummies resting on stands. The floors seemed to be covered with cushioned mats. Stepping in after her, Snape closed the door.

"This will provide us with a space to use when doing more physical work," he said, smirking as she colored again, and moving to the middle of the large room. "Tonight I will be attempting to teach you to disarm, and then stun an opponent."

"Opponent?" she asked, moving a little closer to where he stood. She sincerely hoped she was not going to run into any 'opponents' with whom she would have to exchange magical blows.

"Yes," he replied. "Should you ever need to defend yourself for any reason, these spells will prove highly useful." Snape moved to the far wall, picking up one of the practice dummies the room had created for him, and placing it closer to them on the floor. It was in the shape of a person wearing a mask and a hood. He smirked to himself. He had wanted the room to create practice dummies for him, but he had not specified that the room should create them in the image of a Death Eater.

"The first spell," he said, stepping aside and motioning to the dummy. In one of its hands, it was holding a fake wand. "Is the disarming spell. Properly and accurately performed, it will allow you to disarm a wand from your opponent's hand, placing it temporarily out of their reach. It can even knock them back if the spell is powerful enough." Snape smirked amusedly as he remembered knocking Lockhart on his backside in front of the students.

Sarah watched as Snape took about fifteen paces away from the dummy, and then turned to it again.

"Observe," he said.

He made a very precise-looking movement with his wand, which involved a quick turn of his wrist.

_"Expelliarmus!"_

The fake wand was neatly thrown from the dummy's hand. It flew through the air, landing on the floor a sizeable distance away. That would certainly keep someone from being able to reach their wand again quickly, Sarah thought. Sarah looked from the disarmed wand back to Snape.

"That is a properly performed disarming spell," he explained. "The wand is temporarily out of my opponent's reach. They _would_ be able to regain their wand in a matter of seconds, but this has given me the advantage to try and prevent them doing so. Now would be an excellent time to stun."

His arm forcefully shot forward at the dummy.

_"Stupefy!"_

A jet of red light issued from his wand, and struck the dummy square in the chest. The effect was instantaneous; the dummy was thrown back several feet, falling to the matted floor.

"Ideally, if my spell was performed accurately and powerfully enough, my opponent would now be in a temporary state of unconsciousness," he said, walking toward the dummy and picking it up. He righted it again, and dragged it back to where it had been in the middle of the room. "This would have won me the duel, or allowed me the time in order to flee from an enemy."

"Performed weakly or inaccurately," he continued, "Or _both_, should the spell hit your oponent, it should at least daze them, but not render them completely unconscious. This is still better than having completely missed them, but with enough time and practice, you should be able to aim the spell proficiently. Aiming for the chest or head is key. _Accio_," he had pointed his wand at the fake one lying across the floor, summoning it to him, and then placing it back in the dummy's hand. He then stepped away from it.

"Now you try," he said.

"Try disarming it?" Sarah asked, reaching inside her robes and pulling out her wand. She raised it toward the target; she felt a little silly about practicing spells on a dummy.

"Yes," Snape replied, making sure he was far enough away from the dummy that the girl could not accidently hit him with anything unless she actually intended to. "If you become adequately proficient with this skill, we can move on to stunning. Please begin. The spoken incantation for this spell is _'Expelliarmus'_."

"Alright," she said, a little unsure of herself. She eyed the wand in the dummy's hand. Taking a deep breath, she slashed her own wand through the air toward the dummy.

_"Expelliarmus!"_

She had managed to produce an effect, but not the desired one. The dummy was struck with an invisible force and fell over backward, but the wand did not leave its hand. _Oh well,_ Sarah thought to herself, _at least I managed to do __**something**__ to it on my first try._ Once again, Snape had made it look so very simple when he demonstrated for her.

Raising his wand, Snape caused the dummy to stand upright again.

"That, Miss Garrend," he said, "Was not so much a spell as a mad flailing of your wand. You merely applied an unfocused magical force to your target. This spell requires precision, moreso perhaps than any of the other spells you have learned thus far. Try again."

Nodding, Sarah raised her wand again. This time, she tried making a shorter movement with it.

_"Expelliarmus!"_

The force she applied was stronger this time. The dummy was knocked back slightly, and then fell over. Its wand was still in its hand. Snape raised his wand at it again, forcing it back upright and moving it to its original position. Sarah, whose eyes were on the dummy, did not notice when he began to approach her.

Standing behind the girl, he leaned down toward her and took a hold of her right hand which was gripping her wand. His head was just over her shoulder, his body close to hers. She stiffened. Moving the girl's arm for her, he raised her wand at the target. He _was_ trying to instruct her on how to successfully perform the spell, but it had given him yet another excuse to bring himself close to her and test the girl's reactions. So very close to her neck, he breathed deeply. She had a very sweet scent, almost like vanilla.

"You are only trying to apply a force to a very specific location. Your spell needs to be very precise. Focus very hard on your opponent's wand hand, and nothing else," he said. Sarah shivered as she could feel his hot breath on her neck. It was going to be very difficult to focus on much of anything with Snape bearing down on her like this.

Squeezing her hand a little, he turned it to demonstrate a wand motion that would apply a more precise force.

"Try it like that," he said, stepping away from her and folding his arms across his chest as he observed. "No more of this inaccurate wand-waving of yours."

Sarah steadied herself. Experimentally, she attempted to repeat the same movement that Snape had shown her, without speaking. Thinking that she had done it correctly, she focused as hard as she could on the dummy's hand, and tried the spell again.

_"Expelliarmus!"_

This time, she had done it. The dummy was rattled a little from the force of the spell, and its wand flew from its hand and landed a short distance away. She hadn't placed the wand quite as far out of reach as Snape had, but she did manage to disarm it. Pleased with herself, she grinned and looked back at Snape. He nodded, moving forward and pointing his own wand at the fake wand in order to retrieve it. Placing it back in the dummy's hand, he stepped aside again.

"Try it a few more times," he instructed her.

Sarah managed to disarm the dummy several more times in succession. She still could not manage to do it as well as Snape had, but she could do it consistently. Her last attempt, she had even been able to knock the dummy back as well as disarming it. Resetting the dummy, Snape spoke again. This time, he had not bothered to place the dummy's wand back in its hand.

"Good work. Now you will try your hand at stunning," he said, placing himself quite a bit further away from where Sarah would be aiming. "I have already demonstrated this for you. It requires similar precision, but also control and steadiness on your part. The spoken incantation is _'Stupefy'_. Easy enough. Now you try it."

He folded his arms across his chest, watching. Sarah nodded and looked back to the dummy. Raising her wand, her arm shot forward toward it.

_"Stupefy!"_, she yelled.

She had managed to output a tremendous amount of force. Unfortunately, it was not entirely focused. As soon as the jet of red light left her wand, some of the spell's force had bounced back at her. The dummy was struck with the spell, and hurtled back a respectable distance. At the same time, Sarah was knocked off her feet, falling back to the matted floor. It cushioned her fall, but she was still a bit shaken.

As quickly as she could, she sat straight up in order to see what she had done to the dummy. She was pleased to see that she had struck it, and thrown it back quite a distance to boot. Snape smirked. Raising his wand, he corrected the dummy again.

"Recall, if you would, what I mentioned about control and steadiness, and try again," he instructed, looking down at the disheveled girl sitting on the floor.

Sarah stood up, straightening her robes. She even tilted her head far to one side, giving it a loud _crack_. Snape winced a little at this.

She took a deep breath, staring down the dummy. This time, she took a different stance. She turned, pointing her right shoulder toward where the dummy stood. This placed her left foot behind her, in order to help steady her should she be subjected to more force from her own spell. She raised her arm quickly.

_"Stupefy!"_

This time, she was not knocked off her feet. The dummy was once again sent flying back as the red light struck it. Some of the spell's force had pushed back on her, but she dug in as hard as she could. She had been forced back a few inches, but managed to stay on her feet.

"Better," Snape said, correcting the dummy again. Truth be told, he was quite impressed with the force the girl was managing to exert. Even so, the force would not be of much use to her if it was not completely controlled. A powerful and poorly-performed stun could be just as likely to injure her as the person she was aiming it toward. "But you need to be able to control it to the point where none of the spell's power backfires on you. You should not be thrown back with every stun you cast."

Sarah began practicing. Completely controlling the spell's force seemed to be difficult for her. Even on her best attempts, she was still pushed back slightly. She had even lost patience a few times and managed to get herself completely thrown back again. Cursing, she would right herself and try again. Snape smirked as he watched. The more and more frustrated the girl got, the more force she put forth with her spell, but even more of it would push back on her. She hit the mats several more times. When Snape began to become concerned that the girl may injure herself, he spoke up.

"Miss Garrend," he spoke sternly, "You need to calm down."

_"Calm down?"_ she repeated, looking at him, and breathing a little heavily from her efforts.

"I am sure you have noticed how your progress has steadily gone downhill as your temper climbs ever higher," he said, giving her a little glare. He wasn't sure if her response was intended to impugn him at all, but he would none the less make it clear that he was not to be trifled with. After he had glared at her, Sarah straightened up and took a deep, calming breath.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she admitted.

"Learning these things requires patience," said Snape. "You have picked up on everything so far rather quickly, but do not become frustrated if a particular spell presents you with more difficulty. Every witch and wizard has their own strengths and weaknesses, but are quite capable of overcoming them."

"Alright," said Sarah, taking another deep breath. Having mostly calmed down, she began trying again.

About an hour later, she was finally able to cast the spell, still with a tremendous amount of force, without being affected by it. Snape reset the dummy again, this time replacing the wand in its hand.

"Now try them both in succession," he said. "If this were a real duel, or some kind of threatening situation, the faster you are able to perform the spells, the better."

Sarah nodded and raised her wand toward the dummy.

_"Expelliarmus!"_

The dummy was shaken slightly as the wand flew out of its hand. Sarah quickly rounded on it again.

_"Stupefy!"_

The dummy was blasted back by the jet of red light that issued from Sarah's wand. She looked to Snape, who gave a nod.

"Well done," he said, regarding her. "Since we still have some time, I believe we should next learn how to counter that particular spell. It is also a way to counter many numbers of different spells that can be directed at you, so it will be a very useful skill for you to learn."

He pointed his wand at the dummy, placing it back along the wall where it had originally been when they first entered the room. He then walked to the middle of the room, looking at Sarah. She looked a little confused.

"As dummies, unfortunately, cannot cast spells," he explained, "I will need to demonstrate the next spell using myself, and I will need your help to do so. Please direct a stun at me as if I were the dummy you were just practicing on."

_"At you?"_ Sarah asked, sounding frightened. She had seen the force with which her spell struck the dummy. It probably would have a significant impact on a real person. She didn't like the idea of aiming one at Snape.

"Just trust me, Miss Garrend, and do as you are told," Snape sighed.

"If you say so...," she said quietly, looking concerned.

"And I will warn you," said Snape, "Be ready to move immediately after doing so."

_"Stupefy!"_

Just before the red light reached him, Snape made a downward sweeping movement with his wand.

_"Protego!"_

Sarah watched as her spell seemed to hit some sort of protective bubble around him, which shimmered and then disappeared. A split second later, her eyes widened in horror as she saw her own spell streaking back at her. She dove out of the way just in time, landing on her stomach on the floor, her arms over her head. She heard a loud thud as the spell struck the wall some distance behind her, and took a small chunk out of it.

She remained on the floor for several moments before rolling over, sitting up, and looking at Snape. She looked furious. Snape smirked a little.

"Jeeze!" she shouted at him, rising to her feet and straighening her robes. "That could have hit me!"

"I believe I did give you fair warning to move after casting your spell, Miss Garrend," he drawled, trying to hide his amusement at the girl's anger. "Unfortunately, it is difficult to demonstrate a shield charm without something to shield yourself from. I thought this was a much better alternative to simply giving you a brief explanation of the spell before I started firing hexes at you in order for you to learn it."

Sarah gave a little scoff. She could not argue with that, but she hadn't exactly been expecting to have her own spell rebound on her. She had heard Snape's warning to move, but couldn't imagine why she would need to. Now she knew.

"As you can see, the shield charm, performed properly, will protect you from many minor spells and curses, causing them to rebound upon the caster," Snape explained. "Many spells can be physically avoided with skillful or lucky dodging, but in order to protect yourself from well-aimed, fast-moving spells, you will need to learn this."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Sarah huffed, still a little angry with him. "Are you going to chase me around shooting at me with stuff until I can do it right?"

Snape smirked again.

"There are other, relatively harmless spells that we can practice with," he said. "I will cast one at you, and you will attempt to produce a shield charm to repel it. This charm will not serve to completely repel very powerful spells and curses, but it can still provide some partial protection against them. The spoken incantation is pronounced _'Protego'_. Prepare yourself." He raised his wand toward her.

"Wait a second!" she yelled, glaring at him. "What the hell are you going to do to me?" She _did_ trust the man, but the idea of having random spells cast at her while she tried to defend herself wasn't exactly appealing.

"Just trust me, Miss Garrend," Snape replied, rolling his eyes a little. "I would not intentionally harm you."

"Fine," Sarah huffed. She shifted to an alert stance, her wand at the ready. "Go for it."

Snape flicked his wand in her direction.

_"Aguamenti."_

A jet of water shot forth from the tip of his wand toward Sarah. She panicked and pointed her wand forward, not really concentrating on what she wanted to do.

_"Protego!"_

Unfortunately for her, nothing happened. She was doused with water. Sighing, she tried to wring out some of the water from her long hair and robes.

"Try again," Snape said, watching her. He tried to suppress the thought that she looked awfully good while soaked with water. "Prepare yourself."

When he saw her take a readied stance, he flicked his wand at her again.

_"Aguamenti."_

This time, Sarah shouted.

_"Protego!"_

She managed to deflect a small amount of the water, but she was doused again. Almost completely soaked, she lowered her wand and glared harshly at Snape. She couldn't help but feel that he was enjoying this. She was right.

Snape raised his eyebrows at her glare. Raising his wand at her again, she flinched and even jumped out of the way, but he did not utter a spell. He made a complicated movement with his wand, and Sarah instantly dried off, her clothes feeling very warm. She looked up at him again, still glaring.

"You should tell me what you're doing before you point that thing at me," she spat at him. He rolled his eyes a little.

"I will be sure to give you advanced warning next time before I dry you off," he said sarcastically. "Now try it again."

Half an hour, and dozens of drying charms later, Sarah had finally managed to produce a decent shield charm which repelled the water.

"Good," said Snape, raising his wand and clearing up the water which had rebounded to the floor. "Now you will try all three spells in succession. First, you will attempt to disarm me. Once I have retrieved my wand, you will cast a stun at me. I will reflect it back at you with a shield charm. You should have adequate time to produce one after casting the stun. After hitting your shield, the spell should lose its potency and fizzle out."

"Are you sure about this?" Sarah asked. She could now repel the water, but she wasn't too confident in her ability to repel a stun.

"As hard as this may be for you to believe," said Snape, sounding a little annoyed, "I have faith in your abilities, Miss Garrend. Should anything go wrong, however, I would be able to easily revive you from a stun. Now, are you prepared to try this?"

Sarah nodded.

"Then begin."

Sarah raised her wand, and flicked it his hand.

_"Expelliarmus!"_

She successfully disarmed him, but the wand did not travel very far. Taking only a few paces away, he was able to retrieve it again. He turned to face her and he nodded once, indicating that he was ready.

Sarah took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes a little. She was still angry at him for having doused her with water so many times, and even angrier about the little smirk he wore while doing it. She would have liked to get him back somehow. These were the thoughts that manifested themselves in her mind before she forcefully slashed her wand in his direction and shouted.

_"Stupefy!"_

The jet of red light burst forth from her wand. It hadn't been a perfect performance of the spell, because she had to dig into the floor to prevent being knocked off her feet. She immediately readied herself to produce a shield charm and repel the incoming stun. Unfortunately, the spell would not come back at her.

Making another downward sweeping movement with his wand, Snape had yelled,

_"Protego!"_

The sheer force of her spell was enough to shatter and pierce his shield. Most of the spell's power had been used up by doing this, but enough of it remained to strike him and throw him backward a small distance. He landed on his back on the matted floor, unmoving.

Terrified at what she might have done, Sarah immediately tossed away her wand and dashed over to where Snape lay. She dropped to her knees beside him and leaned over him, looking into his face. His eyes were closed. Sarah didn't know it, but he was quite conscious, and quite angry at what she had just done. He was just playing possum.

Sarah was frightened out of her mind.

_Oh god, he's going to kill me,_ she thought to herself. _Oh no... that is, if I haven't killed __**him.**__ Please don't be dead, please don't be dead..._

Sarah placed her hand on his neck and began feeling for a pulse. She ran her fingers over his large scar, and pressed down. Still very new to magic, she had no idea that a mostly-deflected stunning spell had about as much chance of killing somebody as a bat-bogey hex did. She sighed relief when she found a pulse, but quickly became terrified again when Snape's eyes shot open, glaring straight up at her.

Before she could react, Snape's arms shot up and grabbed her shoulders. He quickly used his momentum to roll her flat onto her back. He was now raised up above her, his hands resting on the floor on either side of her, pinning her down with his glare. He was fuming, his lank black hair hanging down.

"You _wanted_ that to happen, didn't you?" he snarled at her. "You _tried_ to break through my shield charm, didn't you?"

"I... I...," Sarah stammered. She couldn't find words. She was still terrified at this sudden shift in position, and now that she had an angry Snape partially lying on top of her, she was even more nervous. "I didn't mean for that to happen, I swear! I didn't even know I could do that! I didn't know!"

Snape continued glaring down at the girl, his black eyes boring into her. His expression softened, however, when he noticed her frightened eyes. It was not the fear that concerned him; the girl's glamour had faded. The eyes that were wide with fear and staring back up at him were a bright, blood red. He sighed, calming down. Sarah, who had been practically squirming with fear under him, settled a little she saw his expression soften.

Snape continued looking down at her, his expression now a little sad. He had assumed she had intended to break through his shield charm in order to hit him with her spell, giving him payback for all the dousing he had done to her. This had made him very angry. Having been brought away from his anger at the surprise of seeing her eyes returned to red, he realized now that even if she _had_ wanted to do this, she was probably telling the truth in saying that she had no idea it was possible. It was impossible that she had actively _tried_ to shatter his shield charm and hit him; that would be a daunting feat, even for most fully-trained witches and wizards.

The reason for his sad expression was that he felt disappointment at himself. This was the second time that his temper had frightened the girl into believing that he would hurt her. He had roughly grabbed her arm after it had been cut accidentally, which had literally caused her pain, as well as frightened her. Now, he had practically shoved her to the ground, and was holding her there as he angrily accused her of trying to hit him with her spell. Larger and much stronger than her physically, this hadn't been hard to do. He didn't want the girl to be frightened of him.

Sarah continued silently lying under him. She was looking up at him in confusion as she had watched his expression of anger melt away, and then change into one of sadness or hurt.

"I am sorry," Snape said sincerely, still looking down at the girl as he was raised above her. "I did not mean to frighten you like that. I should learn to control my temper," he said quietly.

Sarah's eyes widened. She was still looking up into his deep black eyes, which were now inexplicably filled with concern, and almost begging for her to accept his apology. He almost looked to her as if he were a frightened child who had just been caught doing something wrong, and was asking his parent's forgiveness. Somehow, it seemed that frightening her had caused the other, different Snape to emerge from him again. This, she realized, was the same Snape who had tenderly carried her inside the castle, and who had so carefully cared for her wounds last night. This was the same Snape who had kissed her. She let out a sigh of relief as the last of her fear faded.

"It's alright," she said softly, trying to reassure him.

He continued staring down at her for several more silent moments. Only now had the fact that he was practically pinning this attractive young witch to the floor become very real to him. He had kissed her last night, and she had let him. As he looked down into her face, he could see that same blush she had worn creeping back. The fact that she wasn't trying to squirm out from under him should have been assurance enough that she wasn't frightened or angry with him any more, but he wanted to be completely sure.

Shifting his weight so his left hand would support him, he slowly brought his right hand to her face, using it to gently brush back some of her hair. He felt as she shuddered under him, and her blush deepened. He knew how highly inappropriate this position was, but he didn't care. He then watched as her eyes made the telltale dip down to his lips and back up again. She wanted him to kiss her, he thought. Hoping to the gods that he was right, he leaned down and softly captured her lips.

He began experimentally soft at first, still unsure. All doubt was removed from his mind when she began kissing him back more forcefully than he had started. He leaned down even closer to her, now supporting himself with his elbows instead of his hands. He was rewarded with a small whimper. Encouraged by this, he carefully brought his tongue to her lips, gently seeking entrance to her mouth. He was thrilled when she accepted this. Together, they began kissing more deeply, tongues sensually exploring one another. All the while, he kept gently caressing the side of her face with his hand.

A few minutes later, Snape drew up for air, again supporting himself on his hands. Even with the roaring fireplaces, it seemed as if the room had suddenly become very hot. Somewhere deep in his chest, he felt pride. He had frightened the girl, but she had accepted his apology and even allowed him to kiss her deeply. If this wasn't proof that she was attracted to him, he didn't know what was. Why she was attracted to him, however, still remained a mystery.

Sarah, still blushing deeply, looked up at him. She was breathing a little heavily. He couldn't possibly be angry with her any more, she thought. Not after _that_. As he looked back down at her, she noticed that there was a touch of color on his normally pale face. Had she been the cause of that? The thought excited her.

Satisfied that the girl was still more than accepting of him, his lip twitched into an almost imperceptible smile. Giving her face one more gentle caress, he rolled off of her and stood. He extended his hand to her, looking down at her as she continued to lie there. Her red eyes were staring back up at him, with what he could only imagine was a combination of surprise and heat. After a few more moments, she sat up and took his hand. He carefully helped her to her feet.

Giving her a once-over to make sure she was alright, he nodded once.

"I think that will be enough for one evening," he said. Instead of pointedly looking away from him, as he had assumed she would, she was looking straight at him. Maybe his earlier request had gotten through to her. This did not stop her from continuing to blush deeply, and look very nervous.

"You did very well," he said, turning away from her and striding back across the room to where she had dropped her wand. Sarah slowly followed after him. Stooping down, he picked up her wand. Turning back to face her, he held it out to her by the tip. "I doubt that most of my students would be able to master so much in just a single evening. Well done."

Sarah took her wand from him.

"Thank you," she said softly. She wished that she could always interact with _this_ Snape, instead of the 'normal' one. Although, the latter was not without his own charms.

Snape then strolled over to the door, holding it open for her.

"Allow me to escort you back to your room," he said, motioning outside into the corridor. "Fortunately, it shall be a much shorter trip this evening."

Giving him a small smile, she walked past him into the corridor. Shutting the door behind him, Snape stepped aside to allow the girl space to re-summon the door to her room. She paced back and forth in front of the door they had just exited several times. It very quickly disappeared and rematerialized into the familiar ornately-carved door, but she made no move to open it. She knew that Snape would step forward and open it for her, and he did just that. She stood before him and thanked him softly, looking up into his eyes.

"Before you retire, Miss Garrend," said Snape, "I am afraid that I must reapply the glamour to your eyes. It seems to have faded at some point over the course of the evening."

"Oh, okay," Sarah replied. She hadn't even felt it or realized that it had happened. She would have to be mindful of this in public. Having her eyes suddenly turn red could be disastrous. She took a deep breath, knowing what was coming.

Snape stepped forward and raised his wand to her eyes, and placed his left hand underneath her chin to tilt her head up. He almost smiled a little, because it looked as if the girl had been expecting him to do that. He gave his wand a small flick, concentrating on applying the glamour with particular potency. He did not want it to be fading again at an inopportune time.

Sarah winced as her eyes stung a little. When Snape released her chin, she rubbed at her eyes.

"I am sorry," he said. "I applied it more strongly this time, to ensure that it will not fade again when you do not expect it."

"Yeah, that would be pretty bad," Sarah said, taking her hands away from her eyes and looking up at him again. They were now restored to their original shade of deep, dark brown. Snape was still standing quite close to her, and did not back away. Starting to blush again, she looked up at him expectantly, her eyes darting once again to his lips.

Snape's eyes widened a little as he observed the girl's actions. His heart sped up. _She wants me to kiss her again,_ he thought to himself. _This is insane,_ he thought, as he leaned closer to her. He didn't care if it was insane. She did not back away. Giving in to her apparent desire, he captured her lips again. Their kiss quickly deepened as it had before. Pretty soon, Snape found that he had placed one hand in her hair, the other on one of her hips, and had backed her up against the wall beside the open door. He opened his eyes as he realized this, and gently withdrew from the kiss, taking a small step back. He didn't exactly want to be caught in a passionate embrace with the young girl in the middle of a corridor like some hormonal teenager.

Sarah looked up at him, breathing a little heavily. She swallowed hard as she too realized what had just happened. Turning her head from side to side, she glanced up and down the hall. The corridor was dark, but she was certain that there wasn't anyone else present. Snape surreptitiously repeated this action, wanting to be absolutely sure that they were alone. Both of them let out small, simultaneous sighs of relief.

Looking back to the girl, Snape took a hold of her right hand and bent down, bringing it to his lips. He placed a soft kiss upon it. Somehow he knew, after having kissed her like that, he could not just simply say goodnight to her and walk away as if nothing had happened.

"Until tomorrow evening, Miss Garrend," he told her softly. Giving her a small bow, he turned and walked off down the corridor, leaving Sarah leaning up against the wall.

Entering her room, Sarah slumped back against the door and slid down it again. Somehow, this had become quite a routine position for her after returning to her room for the evening. She knew she had pretty much just made out with her Professor. At the same time, she knew that _she_ hadn't been the one who initiated it. She would have been stupid to think that her attraction to him wasn't at least a little bit obvious, but she hadn't been the one to start kissing him. Could it be possible that he was also attracted to her? It seemed impossible. He was so much older than her, and she could not see what a seasoned wizard would want with a young witch who barely knew anything about magic or the world he lived in. Still, _he_ had been the one who had kissed _her_. There could be no denying that fact.

Still dumbstruck at the entire situation, Sarah readied herself for bed. As strange as the situation was, she could not deny that she had greatly enjoyed it, and even desired it.

On his way back down to the dungeons, Snape was busy wondering what such an attractive young witch would want with a much older wizard. He was also sincerely hoping that the corridor had indeed been empty. He would make a mental note, not to make the mistake of snogging her in an open corridor again.

Unfortunately, the corridor had not been as empty as it appeared.

* * *

Back up in the seventh floor corridor, Harry was sitting against a wall, underneath his invisibility cloak. He had not moved for several minutes. He was completely agape at what he had just seen.

Sarah's apparent strange reaction at anything having to do with Snape had been bothering him for the rest of the evening. He had seen the same blush Sarah had worn on Ginny's face after he had kissed her. He had assumed he was jumping to conclusions, as he tended to do, but he wanted to find out for sure. He was concerned that perhaps maybe Snape had done something to Sarah, and that was the reason why she was so concerned with being late. Maybe she was frightened of him.

Unable to settle down for bed, Harry had snuck out under his cloak and headed up to the Room of Requirement. He thought Sarah should be back from her lesson by that time. If she wasn't, he would simply wait for her to return.

When Harry entered the corridor, the sight he was met with shocked him so much that he had jumped around the corner again, as if they would be able to see him under his cloak. Sarah was indeed back from her lesson; and there she was, up against the wall next to the open door of her room, being kissed quite passionately by Snape. _Snape_.

Harry had never even seen Snape so much as smile, let alone kiss anyone. Harry had sunk down to the floor, eyes wide, and his mouth hanging open in surprise. Luckily, the kiss only lasted a couple more seconds. Harry watched as Snape kissed Sarah's hand, and left the corridor. Sarah had then entered her room and shut the door. The wall became blank again as Harry watched the door disappear.

Even after all he had been through in his life, Harry doubted that he had ever seen a stranger sight. How had this happened? He continued staring at the empty stretch of wall for several more minutes, trying to process it. The idea of Snape ki

ssing anyone was just... unheard of. Unthought of. This had been one of the few times when Harry hoped that the conclusions he'd quickly jumped to were incorrect.

They weren't.

He wasn't about to tell a soul what he had just witnessed, but he would have to approach Sarah about it.


	11. Hatching a Plan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 11: Hatching a Plan.

* * *

Arriving back in his dungeon quarters, Snape quickly went into his private study. Once there, he flicked his wand at the fireplace, which instantly burst into a lively flame. Moving to one of his cabinets, he removed a large bottle and a small glass. After having poured himself a generous amount of firewhiskey, he slumped down into one of his comfortable armchairs facing the fireplace. Before his lips had even touched the alcohol, he already felt dazed. Such was this girl's strange effect on him.

Staring into the fire, he swallowed back a large shot, wincing a little as it burned his throat. He couldn't understand what kept possessing him to act that way toward her, even up to, and well past the point of making quite physical advances. The girl hardly seemed to object to them; on the contrary, she seemed to desire it. It was obvious she desired him for whatever reason, and for an equally mysterious reason, he could no longer deny that he felt some form of desire as well. Neither side of the picture made much sense to him.

Here was an attractive young witch, completely green to everything having to do with magic. He hadn't exactly given her an overly warm reception into the magical world. He hadn't even believed she was a witch at first. Despite the callous personality he had shown her, she hadn't shied away from him or looked upon him with dislike. Instead, she seemed to have a strange kind of patience with him. She didn't seem ready to hate him at the drop of a hat, like the majority of his students. Was this because she had no prior knowledge of his reputation?

She couldn't have known that the same man who carried her inside the castle and taken her to Diagon Alley was almost unanimously feared throughout the school. Had she known this from the start, she probably would have been less apt to be patient with him, let alone become _attracted_ to him. Maybe the girl was just feeling insecure and isolated in her new world, and that was the reason for it. Although, perhaps he was not as monstrous as he thought himself to be.

He silently pondered his own strong reactions to the girl's attraction. Voldemort was now defeated. Even though it still pained him, he was now free to continue his life without the shadow of Lily's death constantly hanging over his head and governing all of his actions. He had always loved her, and in truth, he always would. The large scar on the side of his neck would always remind him of the sacrifices he had made for her.

He recalled how, in their younger days, she had blushed several times in his presence, but he never had the courage to take a step closer to her and see what might happen.

It felt as if, when he would look into the girl's eyes and see her blush, or feel her tremble... the same young man that he used to be, full of unrequited feelings, would come to the surface again. This time, however, he would not let another opportunity slip away from him. This time, he had taken that extra step forward, and he had not been disappointed.

Sipping his firewhiskey and staring into the flames, he continued to wonder about the strange girl who had been thrust into his life.

* * *

Back up in her room, Sarah had just sat down upon her bed when there was a knock on the door. Leaping to her feet, she became very nervous. _Is it Professor Snape?_ she thought to herself. _Did he come back? What if he wants to come inside? Oh god!_

She began pacing around the room frantically. What if it was him? Should she let him in? She found, that while immersed in his kiss, she had been completely unaware of herself. She hated to admit it, but it probably could have gone much farther than just passionate kissing if he had led it in that direction. There came another knock on the door, and she flinched. She would have to answer it. If it _was_ Snape, he knew she was inside. Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, she moved toward the door and swiftly opened it.

She was surprised to find the doorway empty. Furrowing her brows, she stepped out into the corridor and glanced around; there wasn't anyone there. Who could have knocked on her door? Maybe it had been one of the ghosts? Sighing, she was simultaneously relieved and disappointed. She stepped back into her room.

Closing the door behind her, she nearly had a heart attack when she turned around into the room that she believed to be empty; Harry had thrown off his invisibility cloak, and was now standing in the middle of her room, wearing an expression of extreme shock and confusion. Sarah gave a surprised yelp and jumped back into the door, flattening her back against it, her chest heaving.

"Harry!" she gasped loudly, still flat against the door. "What did you do that for? Don't sneak up on me like that!"

Harry threw his cloak down on Sarah's bed.

"Sorry," he said, "I just thought maybe you wouldn't let me in."

"Oh, no," she said quickly, "I would have let you in. I got the door, didn't I? I though it was-," she paused abruptly, blushing a little and looking away from Harry.

Harry sighed. He knew exactly who she thought might have been at the door.

"We need to talk," he told her.

"About what?" she she quickly replied, but bit down on the inside of her cheek as soon as she did. _Oh no,_ she thought to herself, _he knows! He could have been inside in the corridor this entire time with that cloak of his on! He could have seen everything!_ Her eyes widened in fear.

Harry, frightened that she might become upset with him, thought he owed her a proper explanation before jumping to the small detail that he had just seen her being snogged by Snape in the middle of the corridor.

"I was just coming up here to see you," he explained, "I thought maybe something was wrong. I noticed at supper that you seemed a little nervous about Snape. I thought maybe he had done something to you, to make you frightened of him. You haven't told me much of anything about your lessons with him. I wanted to make sure everything was alright." This was a perfectly legitimate explanation, happily glossing over Harry's suspicion of her being attracted to Snape.

Sarah sighed in relief. Maybe he hadn't seen anything. Unfortunately, she was not so lucky.

"Instead," he said, sounding very uneasy, "When I got up here... well...," His face colored and he trailed off.

"Oh no," Sarah groaned, walking over to her bed and flopping down onto it face-first. "You saw us, didn't you," she said, her words almost completely muffled by the pillow she was pressing her face into. She was quite convinced that she had just utterly destroyed the good relationship she had going with Harry, as well as her budding friendships with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

"I didn't mean to, honestly," Harry said, moving toward her bed and looking down at her. "I was just coming up to make sure you were alright."

"I'm fine," she groaned out into her pillow.

"Sarah," Harry began quietly, a little frightened about what he was going to ask, "He wasn't... well... _forcing_ you... was he?"

Sarah immediately raised herself up onto her arms, turning her head to glare up at him.

_"What?"_ she spat at him loudly. "You think he was forcing me to kiss him?"

"I just...,"

"I was right," she fumed, "You guys sure do hate him a lot. So what if he's been a mean teacher to you over the years. Hasn't he already proven that he's a hero? Or do you still not believe he's innocent yet?" Sarah looked extremely angry. Still glaring at Harry, she narrowed her eyes.

Harry shook his head back and forth quickly as she spoke. This was almost exactly what he had been afraid of; however, instead of becoming angry at the simple fact that Harry had accidentally seen her with Snape, she was incensed that Harry suggested that he had been forcing her.

"No, no! Not at all!" Harry stammered, outstretching his arms toward her in a gesture of surrender. "I know he's a hero, Sarah!" he shouted back. He then lowered his voice significantly. "But that doesn't stop him being a...,"

"A _what_?" Sarah shouted incredulously. "A greasy git?"

"Listen to me!" Harry pleaded with her, looking into her dark brown eyes as she glared at him. "I'll admit that I don't like him, and he _hates_ me, but I don't mind if you want to snog with him, its your own choice! You can shag him in the middle of the Great Hall if you want to, I wouldn't mind! I just wanted to make sure that you were alright, and that nothing about what I saw was wrong! I'm just trying to look out for you, that's all!"

Sarah's glare softened and then faded. Sighing deeply, she plopped face down back into her pillow.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she murmured. Instead of realizing that he was just looking out for her, she attacked him for having suggested that Snape was forcing her physically.

"It's alright," he replied. "I expected you might get a bit upset at me." He watched as Sarah pushed herself up onto her arms again, and then sat up cross-legged on her bed, looking at him.

"He wasn't forcing me," she said shyly, her face quickly coloring. She looked away from him.

Harry took a seat on the plush floor carpet, also sitting cross legged, and looking up at her as she sat on her bed.

"How did it happen?" Harry softly inquired. The idea of anyone kissing Snape was entirely strange. He couldn't fathom how Sarah's lessons with him had translated into the beginnings of physical intimacy in such a short time.

"I'm not really sure," said Sarah, looking down at her hands and fiddling with her fingernails. "I know what a jerk everyone says he's supposed to be and... yeah, I guess he's a jerk sometimes," she admitted, taking a deep breath. "But he's not like that sometimes with me. It's almost like he becomes a different person for little periods of time."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. He had briefly witnessed a completely different Snape within the pensieve, but in the real world, he had only ever experienced the Snape that Sarah had admittedly described as a 'jerk'.

"Well," Sarah began, "When he took me to Diagon Alley, he was pretty patient with me. He was pretty short with me, but he wasn't mean. He was even a gentleman too. He let me borrow his cloak when I was cold, and he even let me look inside the joke shop because he'd seen that I wanted to."

Harry nodded along as he listened to her, Sarah already having mentioned these things to him when they had first met.

"I guess I didn't realize it at the time, but I think I started liking him a little then," she continued. "And during our lessons, he's patient with me... curt, like I said before, but never mean. After our first lesson, I couldn't find my way back up here, so I went back down to his office. He was already undressed and seemed pretty angry that I'd bothered him, but he brought me back up here anyway. And he opened the door for me, like he always does."

"Undressed?" Harry boggled, looking a little frightened.

Sarah rolled her eyes a tiny bit.

"He was wearing a bathrobe. Anyway," she continued, "During our next lesson, he had me brewing another potion... and I just sort of started staring at him and daydreaming like an infatuated schoolgirl." Sarah paused for a moment, thinking about what she had just said. "What am I saying _like_ for, that's _exactly_ what I am. But I didn't even realize I was doing it. He caught me at it. I was so embarrassed I thought I was going to die."

"During our first lesson," she continued, "I had managed to get some potion in my eyes. So after second the lesson, he brought me back up here again, and wanted to check my eyes before he'd let me go." This wasn't too far from the truth. She _did_ get potion in her eyes, and he _had_ wanted to check them, but she skipped over the details of her eye color for obvious reasons.

Sarah started blushing again as she spoke on.

"He must have noticed by then," she said, looking up and staring ahead a little dreamily. "He got _really_ close to me. And he'd tilt my head up so he could see my eyes. And he leaned even closer to me... I didn't know what he was doing... I thought he was going to kiss me, that's what it looked like. He almost did, he was about an inch away. But he didn't. I was just about paralyzed."

Harry nodded. When he had started dating Ginny again, he finally got around to reading _Twelve Fail-safe Ways To Charm Witches_, which Ron had given him for his seventeenth birthday the previous year. It sounded to him as if Snape had been testing the waters. Sarah was correct in assuming he had already noticed her attraction by that point. The fact that she didn't back away from him had probably been a greatly encouraging sign.

"Then in our next lesson, I was a real idiot," Sarah continued. Looking at Harry again, she lifted her right arm and rolled up her sleeve, extending it toward him. Harry's eyes widened when he saw the three large gashes on her forearm, which looked several days old.

"He was pretty angry at first, I think," said Sarah. "And he grabbed my arm to drag me over to his desk, but it hurt. He'd grabbed me where I was cut. I tore myself away from him and when he tried to get close to me again, I backed away. I was afraid he was going to hurt me again. The cuts hurt bad enough without someone grabbing them. After that he... sort of... _changed_ again," she said softly.

Sarah brought her arm back. With her left hand, she began gently running her fingers over her skin near where she was cut, just as Snape had. She had a peaceful expression on her face, and was almost smiling.

"He was so gentle, and almost kind," she said softly. "He told me he was sorry for hurting me, and he sat me down at his desk and looked over my cuts. He held my arms still and dripped something onto them... It healed them, I don't remember what it was. I couldn't even remember I was hurting anymore, with him touching me... I was completely confused at why he'd changed like that. It was so sudden."

Harry watched as Sarah trailed her hand over her healed cuts; it was difficult for him to imagine Snape gently and patiently tending to her wounds like she was describing.

"Then he left and came back with this bowl of yellow-looking stuff," she said, looking a little confused.

"Murtlap essence," Harry supplied. Subconsciously, he rubbed the back of his hand, where there were still faint white scars etched into his skin.

Not having the faintest clue what exactly a Murtlap was, Sarah raised an eyebrow and looked up at him. When she saw that he was looking straight at her, she looked away again. Swallowing, she continued.

"Well whatever it was," she said, "He sat back down and cleaned off my arms with it. He washed all the blood off. He even asked me if it hurt.. he was so gentle...," she sighed, idly feeling her arm again as she recalled it.

Harry's eyes widened even more, and his mouth opened a little. If it was hard for him to imagine Snape taking care of Sarah's cuts, it was nearly impossible for him to envision _this_ in his mind. He _could_ understand Snape healing Sarah's cuts. He probably didn't want her bleeding all over his office. It was just prudent. For him to fetch a bowl of Murtlap essence and then gently clean her arms of the blood; he _definitely_ hadn't needed to do _that_. But he did anyway. Sarah was right; it _did_ sound like Snape became a completely different person. This was probably the single kindest thing that Harry had heard of Snape ever doing for anyone.

"And then after," Sarah continued, her voice very quiet, "He brought me back up here, and he checked my arms again. And then he wanted to check my eyes. He got really close to me again... and this time, he kissed me. It wasn't too much though, only a little... and then he left. That's why I was trying to avoid you guys before... I didn't want to end up confessing that I'd kissed one of your teachers. Your most hated teacher, to boot. You guys would have gone crazy."

Harry gave a small laugh, smiling at her.

"That's probably about right," he said. "I bet Ron would have had a fit."

Sarah looked up at him, her eyes silently pleading.

"Harry, you can't tell them. You have to promise me you won't tell them," she begged. She was relieved that Harry hadn't scorned her for what had happened, but she was so pleased to actually have friends here that she didn't want to risk ruining it by having the others find out. "You don't hate me for this, do you?" She looked extremely concerned.

Harry shook his head in the negative. Sarah gave a small sigh of relief. Harry smiled.

"No, Sarah, I don't hate you," he assured her. "Like I said, shag him in the middle of the Great Hall if you want to, I won't give you a hard time. Just as long as you're making the decision, it's fine with me... though I must admit, it does creep me out a little. Old habits and all that."

Sarah laughed a little, smiling back at him.

"But you've got to tell me what happened tonight, too," Harry pressed on. "I think what _I_ saw was a bit more than just a little kiss," he laughed.

Sarah blushed anew, looking away from him.

"Yeah, well," she started, "Tonight we actually had our lesson in here."

Harry choked. Sarah looked up at him again, shaking her head frantically.

"No, no, it's not what you think!" she assured him. "He made the room turn into something else, some big place with cushioned floors and fireplaces everywhere, and bookcases too."

Harry nodded. He knew the place she just described in minute detail to be the same room he had used years previously to practice with Dumbledore's Army. He realized it would probably be an excellent, safe place to teach somebody who was first learning magic. Especially more dangerous spells.

"Anyway," she continued, "He taught me a few new things. I learned how to disarm, stun, and cast a shield charm."

"Nice one," Harry said, sounding impressed. She was doing extremely well if she had managed to learn things like that so quickly. Snape, he realized, was probably a very good teacher to her. He had personal experience with what a formidable duelist he could be.

Sarah gave a small smile, happy with herself that her friend was pleased with the progress she was making.

"So we were practicing," she continued, "And I was going to cast a stun at him, and he'd cast a shield charm and send it back at me, and then I was supposed to shield myself to stop it. Only... it didn't work out according to plan." She winced a little.

"What happened?" Harry asked. He seriously hoped that Sarah hadn't managed to injure herself again somehow. Imagining someone who was extremely magically adept, but just as accident-prone as Neville Longbottom, was a bit frightening.

"I cast my stun at him, like I was supposed to," she said, "But when it hit his shield, something went wrong. It must have broken it somehow, because part of the spell hit him, and I knocked him down."

Harry's eyes widened again; breaking through someone's shield charm with a stun was very impressive.

"I was terrified, I thought I'd hurt him," she continued, "So I dropped my wand and I ran over to him and got down on my knees and started feeling for a pulse. I was freaking out that I'd killed him. As soon as I'd figured out he was alive, he opened his eyes and grabbed my shoulders and rolled me over and pretty much pinned me down. I barely had time to think, he did it so fast."

Eyes still quite wide, Harry raised one eyebrow extremely high. It wasn't difficult to see where _this_ was going.

"He was really angry," said Sarah. "He thought that I'd meant to do it, that I wanted to try and hit him. He was really angry, and I was completely helpless, so I got scared. I couldn't help it. But just like that, he... he changed again. He told me he was sorry, and that he should learn to control his temper. He looked really worried or something, like he was afraid I wouldn't forgive him. It was like he was a completely different person again."

Harry nodded understandingly. If there was one thing Snape had, it was a temper. He knew how Snape's past actions, when in the throes of anger, had driven his mother away from him. If Snape _was_ attracted to Sarah, as strange as that might seem to Harry, he realized that Snape was probably frightened of letting his anger drive her away too.

"I told him it was alright," she continued, "And he relaxed, and it was like he'd just realized the position he was in," Sarah blushed deeply. "And then he... leaned down and...," Sarah cleared her throat and trailed off into mumbles, but Harry was very sure he discerned the phrase 'made out' through it.

"Then after we left, and I brought my room back," Sarah continued, her voice almost a whisper, "Well, you saw what happened next."

"I sure did," Harry snorted, smiling.

"You can't tell anyone," Sarah pleaded again.

"Don't worry," Harry tried to assure her, "I've already told you I won't. But if I were you, I'd be more careful than to start snogging in the middle of the hallway. I'm the only one sneaking about with an invisibility cloak, but you can't be too careful."

"Yeah, I was actually thinking that myself," she admitted.

Now that Harry knew for certain that everything was alright with her, he found the entire situation utterly absurd to the point of good-natured amusement. It all sounded so crazy.

"Sure was a lucky day for Professor Snape when you showed up on our doorstep!" Harry laughed. He might have a hard time understanding Sarah's attraction to him, but it wasn't difficult to see why Snape might be attracted to her.

Sarah smiled back at him.

"It was a lucky day for me, too. Trust me. And not just because of him," she said. Getting lost in the woods, being run down by Centaurs and nearly killed, and being driven toward the castle in the process, had been the best thing that had ever happened to her.

"I believe it," Harry said, shifting to a different sitting position on the floor. "Well, now that's all cleared up. That wasn't the only reason I wanted to come in and talk to you, actually," he said, the tone of his voice becoming more serious.

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked.

"Nothing is wrong," he replied, "But I wanted to talk with you some more about what we talked about at dinner. I talked more about it with Hermione and she thinks it's a terrible idea and doesn't think we should go. But I think we should."

"Go where?" Sarah asked confusedly, tilting her head at him. Her eyes shifted upward and to the side as she recalled their dinner conversation. Then it clicked. She looked back to Harry, surprised. "To the _Ministry_?"

Harry nodded at her once, looking serious.

"Isn't that a little dangerous?" she asked, looking worried. "If Hermione thinks it's a bad idea, I'd probably listen to her. She seems like a genius."

"She _is_ a genius," Harry said, "But that doesn't mean she always knows what's best. I think we should go to the Obliviator Headquarters. Don't you want to find out if they've got a file on what happened when you were a kid?"

"I do," Sarah said quickly, "But you said it yourself. It's not like they're going to let us walk right in and look around. I don't want us to get in trouble or something. If Hermione thinks it's a bad idea, it's probably a bad idea."

"I'm not saying I think it's a great idea either," Harry said, "But how else are we going to find out? I already told you all about what happened before. I've managed to pull off far more risky things, getting far more dangerous stuff out of the Ministry. And I've been in far worse trouble. Compared to all that, I think this will be a picnic, honestly."

Sarah considered him, taking a deep breath. She _had_ heard his stories about getting into and out of the Ministry in order to retrieve the prophecy, and later, the locket. She couldn't argue with him. This _did_ sound like a picnic compared to all of that. She, however, had never personally done anything quite so dangerous, and didn't care to find out what would happen if they were to get in trouble.

"And how are we supposed to do it?" she asked.

Harry tilted his head, nodding toward Sarah's right side. Looking over and down, she could see that she was sitting next to his invisibility cloak. He had thrown it down on her bed when he first entered the room and revealed himself to her. She picked it up and examined the light, supple material.

"You think we'd both be able to fit under this the entire time?" she asked, eyebrows raised. Someone would surely see their ankles, at least.

Harry shook his head.

"Not both of us. You," he said.

"Me? But what about you?" she asked confusedly. Harry gave a sly smile.

"They'll need to be able to see me if I'm going to be impersonating one of them," he said.

"Then why bother making me invisible? Can't you just say I'm with you?" Sarah asked.

Harry sighed, crossing his legs again. He then looked down and began idly pulling at the threads of the plush carpet he was sitting on. He looked to be deep in some unpleasant thoughts.

"Listen," he started. "I've got this funny feeling that it's probably best they don't see you or hear about you at all."

Sarah tilted her head at him.

"You just showed up here," Harry explained, still looking down. "We're not the only ones who are bound to think that's strange. We've got a good Minister running things now, but the Ministry can still do all sorts of funny things if they want to. If they find out about you, they might want to question you, and I don't know what else. I don't want that to happen, and I doubt you do either. So for now, the less they know about you, the better. That will work best if they don't see you at all."

Sarah understood, and agreed. She wasn't about to try and attract the attention of the wizarding authorities. From what Harry had told her about it, she didn't like the sound of it at all. Even though Harry told her things were different now, she still didn't want to risk tangling with a powerful institution like that, when she was such an oddity.

"Then why have me go at all?" Sarah asked. "If I'm going to be invisible the entire time, won't I be kind of useless?"

"Not at all," Harry replied, looking back up at her. "I'll need you to create a distraction or two. And in case things go bad, it sounds like you've gotten pretty good with stunners. You can throw them from underneath the cloak if I need, to back me up. I might even teach you a couple more spells that could be handy, too."

Sarah grimaced. She agreed with Hermione; she didn't like the sound of this at all. She had just arrived in this wonderful new world. She didn't want to ruin it all by getting arrested sneaking around in the Ministry, and being thrown into the Azkaban that Harry had told her about in his story.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked, looking and sounding uneasy.

"Trust me, everything will be fine," he assured her. "We'll go into the department, you'll create a distraction, I'll dive into their files and see what I can find, and then we'll be out of there. Simple as that."

Sarah still looked unconvinced.

"Don't worry about it right now," he said, getting to his feet. "It's getting kind of late. We'll talk about it more tomorrow. I've got to check on a few things first, or we might end up having to wait about a month before we can do it properly. You _do_ want to do this, right? It's not like I'll force you to."

Sarah took a deep breath, regarding her friend. She was touched, and impressed, that Harry was willing to go to such lengths for her in order to try and find out more about her strange circumstances. One thing he said was very true; how else were they going to find out? If the Ministry had a record pertaining to her childhood incident somewhere, she definitely wanted to see it. Harry had certainly gotten away with far worse things in there. She was scared, but she wanted to go.

"Yes," she told him confidently. "I still don't like the sound of it, but I want to go."

"Great," Harry said with a smile. "We'll talk more tomorrow. Like I said, I've got to check on a couple things first." He extended his hand toward Sarah, who gave him back his cloak.

"Don't be using this to sneak up on me again," Sarah said with a smirk, "You really freaked me out."

Harry laughed, throwing the cloak around his shoulders so his body disappeared, leaving his head floating in midair.

"I'll try not to," he said. He moved toward the door and opened it, looking back at her. She looked to be on the verge of speech, but he stopped her before she could get any words out. "And I won't tell anyone. I _promise_. Do you want me to take a Wizard's Oath, even?"

Sarah laughed at him, waving him away.

"No, Harry, I trust you," she told him. "Besides, it sounds like you wouldn't enjoy describing me making out with Snape to anyone."

"You've got that right," he said in a mocking tone, sounding a little disgusted, but it was in jest. He stepped out the door. "Good night, Sarah," he said, shutting the door softly behind him.

Sarah bade him goodnight as he shut the door. She sighed. It certainly had been quite an eventful night, and now there looked to be even more events on the horizon. She sure had befriended someone who seemed to have an affinity with danger.

As she readied herself for bed, she couldn't stop herself from wondering what Snape was doing at that moment, or what he was thinking. She wondered what he could have been thinking while he kissed her. On the outside, he seemed like such a cold, brusque individual. And he was. She could understand Harry's confusion at the situation. It seemed so pointedly out of character for this man to go out of his way and be kind to someone, let alone getting passionate with young girls in darkened hallways. His student, no less, even though she was not really a student of the school.

For whatever reason, this other, different Snape would come to the surface. He was kind and gentle with her. He was wonderful, she thought. This other Snape would make a brief appearance to her, and share some kind of moment with her, either caring or passionate. He would bid her goodnight, and then simply walk away. The next day, when she would encounter him again, the normal Snape had returned.

Lying down to sleep, she was thinking how nice it would be to keep this other Snape around just a bit longer next time.

* * *

The following afternoon, Sarah had been visiting in the Gryffindor common room with Ron and Hermione after their classes ended. She was quite thankful that they were acting very normally, and hadn't asked her any strange questions pertaining to Snape. Harry hadn't told them anything. She _did_ trust Harry, but that didn't stop her from being at least a tiny bit nervous. She could only imagine the look on Ron's face if he heard.

After a while, when Harry didn't show up, Ron explained that Professor Slughorn was probably just having him run around to deliver things again. Since Ron and Hermione both had a bit of homework to do, (Hermione had to quite forcefully push Ron to get to work on his), Sarah told her friends that she would see them at dinner, and left the common room through the portrait hole.

As the portrait swung shut behind her, there came a loud whisper from her right hand side.

"Sarah!"

She flinched and jumped to the side, losing her balance and toppling over onto the floor. Looking up, she saw Harry pulling off his invisibility cloak. Her heart was thumping and she was shaking with fear. He had really given her quite a start. She stared up at him, wide-eyed. Her expression of surprise quickly melted into a slightly angry one.

"I thought I told you not to sneak up on me like that!" she gasped out. Harry smiled and extended his arm toward her. Taking his hand, Harry helped her up to her feet.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I've been waiting here for you to come out for a while. I got kind of excited when you did."

Sarah dusted herself off, looking confused.

"Why the hell didn't you just come inside?" she asked fiercely. "Sure would have been a lot nicer than scaring me half to death out here. You seem to like doing that." She began walking, bound for her room. Harry removed his cloak completely and walked beside her.

"I didn't want Hermione to see us leaving alone together," he explained. "She's too sharp, she would know we're planning something, and I bet she would know exactly what. By the way, don't mention any of this to any of them. Hermione will just worry herself."

"Alright," Sarah said. She hadn't told her other friends about their newly hatched scheme, and she hadn't been planning to.

Harry glanced around to make sure they were alone as they walked along. When he spoke again, he had lowered his voice significantly.

"Anyway, remember last night when I told you I was going to check on something?" he asked.

"Yeah?" Sarah responded, lowering her voice too.

"Well I did. Sort of," he replied.

"Sort of?"

"That's the problem," he explained. "The only thing I was able to check on is the fact that Professor Snape's storeroom is really well warded."

"You were trying to _steal_ from him?" Sarah asked, turning to look at him. She had said that very loudly.

"Shh!" Harry urged her, glancing around again. "Keep it down, would you? Yes, I was trying to steal from him. It's not a big deal, we've done it before, and for practically the same reason."

"Why?" Sarah asked. "Isn't there anything you could do that _doesn't_ involve breaking rules somehow?"

"Not if you don't want to wait a month before we can do this," he replied. "Actually, come to think of it, it wouldn't make a difference. I'll have to nick something from him either way."

"What do you mean?" she pressed, highly confused. "What's in there that you need?"

As they turned a corner, Harry carefully glanced ahead to make sure they were still alone. Satisfied, he continued speaking.

"Well," he began, "I'm _hoping_ that there's some ready-made Polyjuice Potion left in there. If there is, we're all set to go. If there's not, I'll have to steal the ingredients for it and we'll have to make it ourselves, and that takes at least twenty-one days. A few of the ingredients are really rare. Only he would have them."

"Polyjuice Potion?" she asked to be sure. When he had told her his story, Harry had briefly described how he, Ron, and Hermione had all been able to impersonate other people with its use. She didn't much like the idea of it, and she was glad that she wasn't going to be the one turning into someone else.

"Yeah," Harry continued, "Slughorn brewed a whole bunch of it back in sixth year. I already know that Malfoy stole a bunch of it, but I'm hoping there's some left. Slughorn didn't keep it very safe, but if I know anything about Snape, he'd have put it somewhere really secure once he was in control of the school. He probably doesn't think there's any safer place for it than in his storeroom. That's where it'll be."

Reaching the seventh floor corridor, Sarah left Harry's side to pace back and forth several times in front of the blank stretch of wall. When her ornately-carved wooden door appeared, she opened it, letting Harry and herself inside, and closing it behind them. When she spoke again, her voice was at a more normal volume.

"How are you going to get it?" she asked. "You just said yourself that he's weirded it up or whatever."

"Warded," Harry clarified, smirking a little. "He's put magical protection on it, so only he can get in safely. Much better than a lock."

"Alright, then, how are you going to get in?" she asked again.

"That's where you come in," Harry told her, giving her a small smile. Harry moved to sit down on her bed, and Sarah remained standing. She folded her arms across her chest.

_"Me?_" she repeated. "I don't want to be stealing from him."

"That's just it," Harry explained, "_You_ won't be stealing anything. You'll be distracting him so _I_ can."

"And just how am I supposed to do that?" she asked, sounding impatient.

Harry waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her. She immediately colored.

"Oh come on," she said loudly, "You want me to... to..." she stammered, unable to find the words.

"To do whatever you have to do in order to give me enough time to get in there and find what we need," Harry supplied for her. "Whatever that might involve."

He winked.

"I don't like this," she said firmly, plopping down on the floor with her legs crossed, facing him. Her arms were still folded across her chest as well.

"Come on," he goaded her. "I saw you two snogging last night. That looked pretty intense. Are you really going to try and tell me you don't want to do it again?"

"I... I...," unable to find words again, she huffed. She was also unable to argue with him on that point. "Fine. But that's... that's... _snogging_," she repeated loudly, drawing the word out sarcastically, as she was unused to using the strange slang, "Under false pretenses!"

Harry laughed. He could definitely tell Sarah had been hanging around with Hermione; that had been a very Hermione-ish thing to say.

"Do you really think he'd mind either way?" he asked. "I saw you two. He probably wouldn't have noticed if I'd walked on by with my cloak off and said 'good evening'. _You_ probably wouldn't have, either."

Sarah blushed, again unable to argue with him. She had been completely engrossed by Snape, and she could only imagine that he had been completely engrossed with her as well. She sighed.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, surrendering.

"Well, there's a bit of chance involved," Harry started. "It'll only work if he has you brewing a potion tonight. Otherwise, we'll have to wait until he does."

"Why?"

"Well, if he has you brewing a potion," he explained, "Try to figure out whichever ingredient he has the least of. Then you'll have to destroy it, but make it look like you destroyed it trying to prepare it for the potion. Do that until he runs out of it."

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"He's going to think I'm a complete idiot if I do that," she said.

"I'm sure he won't. You've only ever tried making, what, two potions? It wouldn't be completely unbelievable for you to have a little difficulty with one of the ingredients," Harry argued.

"Alright, then what?" Sarah pressed on, wanting to hear the next step of Harry's little plan.

"Then," he continued, "With any luck, he'll have to go to his storeroom. He keeps a bit of stuff stored in his classroom, but I don't think he'd want to disturb his class materials. Make _sure_ you go with him."

"And then?"

"I'll be staked out in front of where it is," he said. "It's sort of hidden, it looks like normal wall between portraits, but I know where it is. After he goes inside to get whatever it is you need, make sure you distract him when he comes back out, before he can get the door closed and start warding it up again."

"Can't I just distract him _before_ he goes in? That seems a lot easier," Sarah argued.

"No. He's meticulous when it comes to his stuff. He'd notice instantly if something was missing, so I can't go in beforehand," Harry explained.

Sarah exhaled loudly.

"Then won't he just notice _later_?" she huffed.

"I'm sure he will," Harry said, "I'm just hoping he won't need to go in there again for a while. He'll probably suspect me of doing it, too."

"Great," Sarah said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Just make sure you distract him before he can get that door closed and put the wards up again," Harry repeated.

"And how am I supposed to know when you're done in there, Mr. Invisible?"

Harry laughed a little. Her contempt for this plan was amusing, especially since he knew she would probably end up enjoying it in the long run.

"How about this," he began, "When I'm done in there, I'll come out and take a hold of whatever shoulder of yours is most accessible to me. I'll give you a squeeze. One squeeze will mean that I've got the ingredients, and two squeezes will mean that I've got the actual potion. That way you'll know that I'm done, and know what I've got. Sound good?"

Sarah bit down on her lower lip, still blushing. She knew that Harry had seen her 'snogging' with Snape last night, as he'd put it, but the idea of him seeing it again was highly embarrassing. Especially, she knew, if things were to get a little bit more heated...

"I guess so," she replied. "That is, if you think you can handle seeing that again." She looked up at him, smirking.

"I think I can cope," Harry laughed. "Sound like a plan?"

"Alright," she reluctantly agreed. She would have to spend the rest of the afternoon before dinner contemplating how exactly she was going to initiate this 'distraction'. She already felt terribly nervous.

"Great," Harry said, rising to his feet. "I'll see you at supper then. I'll act like I'm taking you down there again so you don't get lost, and as soon as I'm out of the Great Hall I'll go to the stakeout spot and wait. With any luck, he'll have you brewing a potion, and you'll be able to run him out of an ingredient so he'll have to go there."

"And what if he doesn't have me brewing a potion?" Sarah asked.

"Then we'll just have to wait for another night. I'll keep waiting there every night if I have to," said Harry.

"Alright," she sighed. "It's _your_ plan. Suit yourself."

After Harry had left, Sarah sat down on her bed. _What did I just agree to?_ she grimly thought to herself. Each time she had ended up kissing Snape, he had been the one to initiate it. She didn't know if she had the courage to simply pull him aside on a spur of the moment and start something with him. He was much taller and much stronger than her, and very physically intimidating, not to mention his intimidating personality. She wondered how he would react to something like that.

To top it all off, Harry would be inside his stores, stealing from him at the very same moment. She wondered if she would be able to function while knowing that, and knowing that Harry could also be watching. He _would_ have to watch at some point, in order to convey to her silently that he was finished and all was clear.

Groaning, Sarah rested her head in her hands and began racking her brain for possible methods. She would probably be nervous to the point of sickness before supper time rolled around.


	12. Fruition

The Name in Red.

Chapter 12: Fruition.

* * *

Sarah spent the rest of the afternoon in the exact same way she had spent the previous one; shut up in her room, and trying to avoid everybody. Earlier, she had played it reasonably cool while visiting with Ron and Hermione. They didn't have the faintest clue that she had 'snogged' (Sarah was still quite amused at this terminology) with their teacher. Now, however, she could hardly play it cool. She paced back and forth in her room nervously, convinced that she was going to carve a path in the rug. She wasn't all too fond of Harry's little plan to steal from Snape's storeroom. Her eagerness at trying to get into the Ministry, however, had pushed her to agree to it.

Thinking as hard as she could, she couldn't imagine how she was going to initiate something with him. Even if she _did_ manage this part, would she be able to keep him occupied long enough for Harry to finish doing what he needed to do? She would probably be a nervous wreck. Snape was brilliant, she knew; he would probably see straight through her and know something was amiss. Then, what would happen if he caught Harry? Would he see through the entire scheme? Would he become furious with her, and think that she had only been doing it to provide a distraction? Any outcome she could think of, other than managing to somehow pull it off perfectly, looked grim.

Harry had been right. There definitely was going to be some luck involved. _More than __**some**_, she thought to herself. She would first have to manage to get him to go to his storeroom, _and_ let her go with him. If she could do that, she would then have to distract him at the right moment, just before he could close the door and start warding it again. This would allow Harry time to get inside, find what they needed, and get out again. It definitely sounded to Sarah as if Harry had been in there before. She hoped that he knew his way around well enough to make it as quick as possible. The less distracting she had to do, the better. Even though Harry claimed that he wouldn't mind, she didn't exactly want to end up 'shagging' him in the middle of the hallway in order for this to work.

She flopped down on her bed, burying her face in her pillow, much the same way she had done after she learned Harry had seen her with Snape. It was going to be a very interesting evening.

* * *

At dinner, Sarah was seated in the Great Hall as usual, next to Harry and Ginny, and across from Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table. Her nervous mannerisms were even more intense than they had been the previous evening, when Harry had first been tipped off that there was something strange going on with Sarah in terms of Snape. She sat a bit hunched over. Her right hand was holding her fork, with which she was poking at her food, and her left hand rested on the table. She was drumming her fingers idly. She stared down at the table, but her eyes were unfocused and her expression quite blank. Harry pretended not to notice at all, but Hermione was occasionally glancing up from her _Evening Prophet_, and Ron was curiously regarding her between large mouthfuls of roast beef and potatoes. Even Ginny was casting surreptitious glances at her over Harry's shoulders.

Heartily helping himself to as much as he could eat, Ron noticed that Sarah had barely touched her food. When he finished his latest mouthful, he spoke up.

"Are you feeling alright, Sarah?" he asked cautiously. "You look a bit peaky."

Sarah didn't respond. In fact, she didn't look like she had heard him at all. She continued staring blankly down at the table, poking at her food and drumming her fingers restlessly. At this, Hermione glanced up from her reading again, looking Sarah over.

"Sarah?" Ron insisted, inclining his head toward her.

Sarah's eyes widened; she heard him that time.

"Huh?" she said quickly, sitting up straight and ceasing her restless movements. Ginny had now leaned forward to peer at her. When she took in their confused and baffled expressions, she spoke. "I'm fine."

She attempted to eat some of her food, trying her best to be nonchalant. She failed miserably.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all wordlessly looked to Harry for an answer about Sarah's odd behavior. He merely shrugged casually. He was trying to play it down as much as possible. He would get quite a talking-to from Hermione if she found out the details of what they were planning together. Thankfully, none of them pressed the issue. Ron returned to his gluttony, and Hermione returned to perusing her newspaper. Beside him, Ginny straightened up and continued eating her meal.

Luckily, Sarah was able to refrain from asking Harry what time it was every two minutes or so. This didn't stop Harry from frequently checking his watch. He did it as discreetly as possible, and was fairly certain that nobody had noticed it. He didn't want Sarah to be late under any circumstances. Harry knew that Snape _had_ to have _some_ kind of soft spot for the girl after everything he'd heard, but Harry didn't want to risk starting him off in a sour mood if she were tardy. He might be less inclined to acquiesce to her accompanying him to his storeroom.

When there was about ten minutes left until seven o'clock, Harry gave Sarah a gentle nudge with his elbow, indicating that it was time to leave. She flinched a little, but no one noticed. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her throat softly and rose from the table.

"Lesson time," she said, her voice sounding quite normal, "I've got to get going."

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all looked up just in time to see Harry rising from the table after her. They shot him questioning looks. Harry looked from his friends, to Sarah, and back again.

"I'll go with you," Harry said casually, "And make sure you don't get lost again."

"Alright," Sarah said, and then began heading for the door.

Before Harry left the table, he wordlessly exchanged a concerned look with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Hopefully they would assume that the reason Harry had offered to accompany Sarah to the dungeons was so he could inquire about what was bothering her. The last thing Harry wanted was for any of them, _especially_ Hermione, to find out that he knew anything about what was going on with her. If Hermione were to find out, she might correctly assume that there was scheming afoot.

All three stared back at him. He became elated inside; they had most likely assumed what he had wanted them to assume. As he turned away from them and headed for the door, he smiled. Things had started out on the right foot for this evening. He felt very optimistic about the rest of the plan.

Exiting the Great Hall, he met up with Sarah. She was standing uneasily, shifting her weight back and forth as she waited for him. When he reached her, he put an arm around her shoulder and started walking her in the direction she needed to go. He was skeptical of her ability to do so under her own power at this particular moment. She was extremely nervous.

"You've got to calm down," he told her softly, trying to sound soothing. "If Professor Snape sees you're having a fit, he's going to think something is up."

"I know," she groaned, wincing. "I can't help it. I get so nervous around him. And the thought of having to practically seduce him isn't doing much to calm me down, either."

Harry laughed softly. The entire concept of a mutual attraction between these two people still seemed utterly absurd and amusing.

"Don't laugh at me!" she scolded him, giving him a harsh look as they walked. "This is _your_ plan, not mine!"

"I'm not laughing at you, trust me," he assured her, smiling. "The whole situation is just a bit silly."

"Couldn't you have thought of a less ridiculous plan?" she asked grumpily.

"Come on," he said coaxingly, glancing around as they turned a corner in order to be sure they were still alone. "It's not going to be so bad. You _liked_ snogging with him, didn't you?"

"I... I...," Sarah stammered. Thinking back on it, she became flustered again. "Yes, I did," she admitted.

"Cheer up, then," he said, giving her a reassuring pat on the back. "You'll probably be thanking me for this later."

"I don't know about that," she huffed, coming to a stop as they reached an intersecting corridor at which they would have to part ways. "What if he finds out? What if you get caught? What then?"

"We'll worry about that if it happens. Just trust me," he replied.

Sarah was still looking at him skeptically, and shifting nervously.

"It'll be alright," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "Just try and calm down a bit. I have complete faith in you. If you've gotten Professor Snape to be _that_ nice to you, you can probably get him to do _anything_."

Sarah's eyes widened a little as she briefly wondered what exactly that 'anything' might be, but she quickly came back to reality. Harry didn't miss her little slip.

"See?" he pressed. "Everything is going to be fine. Just stop being mental about it."

"I don't see how you're _not_ 'mental' about it," Sarah argued. "This is crazy. If he catches you, I bet he'll have me practicing my spells on _you_ next week. And I bet he'll teach me some really nasty ones, too."

Harry laughed; he certainly wouldn't put it past Snape to do that.

"Maybe," he said, taking a deep breath and trying to stop his laughter. "But don't worry about me. Just worry about yourself, and what _you_ have to do, alright?"

Sarah took a deep breath as well.

"Alright," she said. The plan was already in motion. It was pointless to argue now.

"Good," Harry said, reaching inside his robes and pulling his cloak from his pocket. "I'll be waiting outside the storeroom. I'll know if you're coming, so I'll be more than ready. Just remember: One squeeze means I've got the ingredients, and two means that I've got the potion. Either way, it'll mean that I'm clear. I'll get out of there as fast as possible, after letting you know."

"Sure you don't want to stick around and watch us, Mr. Invisible?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Harry laughed.

"That's quite alright," he said, twirling his cloak around himself and closing it so he disappeared. "You'd better get going. I'll be waiting. Try and stay calm."

Sarah sighed and nodded once before turning around and heading off down the corridor.

When she was out of Harry's sight, he quickly turned around as well, headed the opposite way. It wasn't too long of a trip before he reached the corridor in which he knew Snape's storeroom was hidden. It was already very dark. Examining the walls, he located the two portraits that it was located between. Moving to the opposite wall, he sat down and leaned up against it, making sure that his cloak was completely covering him.

Reaching inside his robes, he pulled out the Marauder's Map. If he kept a close eye on it, he would know for sure if Sarah and Snape were headed here. He unfolded it in the darkness, and then drew his wand and illuminated it.

Tapping the parchment with his wand, he whispered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

The parchment immediately filled itself in with a detailed map of the castle. Tiny black dots with labels floating above them were moving about all over. Scanning the map, he located the dungeons. He observed Sarah's dot drawing closer to Snape's office. The dot did not immediately enter the next room.

Harry smiled to himself and had to fight to keep from laughing. He knew, at that moment, Sarah was probably standing in front of Snape's door, fretting nervously and trying to force herself to knock.

Sighing, he relaxed back against the wall. He knew he had a long night ahead of him. He would have to remain here, observing the map, and waiting. With any luck, before the night was out, he would see both of them leaving the office and headed in this direction. Then, if Sarah was able to pull off her end of the plan, Harry would have a small window of opportunity to get inside the unprotected storeroom.

He was still holding out hope to find some ready-made potion, but he was also very prepared for the possibility that he would have to take the ingredients and make the potion himself, thus delaying their little plan quite a bit. It would also complicate matters somewhat; managing to brew a Polyjuice potion secretly, right under Hermione's nose, would be quite a feat.

He was also holding out hope that Sarah would have the courage to pull this off. Yawning, he turned his wrist and glanced at his watch under his wandlight. Now all he had to do was wait, and hope.

* * *

Standing before the door to Snape's office, Sarah wrung her hands. She was greatly hesitating to knock. Words couldn't even begin to describe her nerves. She hoped he wouldn't have her doing anything all to complicated this evening. If he did, she would probably demolish his office in the learning process.

He was such a mystery to her. She already knew what type of man he was supposed to be from his behavior, as well as what Harry and the others had told her about him. He was supposed to be cold, callous, and uncaring. Even cruel. But he had shown her a completely different side. A side, she knew, that most people outside of herself and Harry, didn't think to exist. He hadn't even verbally acknowledged his tender forthcomings to her, or his physical advances. As she had explained to Harry before, it was as if one Snape would walk away from being kind to her and kissing her, and another Snape would be waiting for her the following evening as if nothing had transpired.

Why her? What about _her_ had caused it to come forward in him? Did he really want her? Why?

She could no sooner explain why she herself had developed this strong attraction for him. She was, of course, far too nervous to broach the subject to him. Harry had been right; the whole situation _was_ a bit silly.

She took a deep breath, trying as hard as she could to steady herself. She realized, from Snape's reactions to her, that he was _extremely_ perceptive. It was almost like he was able to read her like a book. He had perceived her attraction to him, and also perceived when she wanted him to kiss her. He could sense her fear and trepidation. Sarah wondered just how much more he might be able to sense about her. If she walked inside now, he probably wouldn't agree to begin their lesson until she told him what was wrong.

_Oh nothing,_ she thought sarcastically to herself. _Harry just cooked up a little plot to steal from you that happens to involve me seducing you as a distraction. No big deal, right?_

She took another deep breath and bit down hard on her lower lip.

"I've _got_ to calm down. _Calm down,_" she whispered to herself, shutting her eyes tight. If she didn't knock now, she might be late. Still biting down on her lip, she raised her hand and knocked softly on the door.

"Enter," called the familiar voice from within.

Trying to forget everything, Sarah entered his office and shut the door behind her. When she turned around, her heart jumped at the sight of Snape sitting at his desk, his dark eyes staring directly at her.

A shot of adrenaline entered her bloodstream, and her pulse quickened. She slowly drifted toward him, almost as if his dark gaze compelled her to do so. She was completely unaware of anything else in the room; there was only him. She was also unaware of the fact that she was already blushing furiously as thoughts of last night, with Snape lying on top of her or backing her up against the wall, raced through her mind.

Snape's expression was blank, but not in a cruel manner. He was simply trying to hide the fact that he was also having these same thoughts. He continued staring at the girl until she stood before his desk. He could clearly see the color in her face, and knew that she must be having the same thoughts as him. She, however, could not tell what was going on in his mind. He was, after all, a master at deception.

He cleared his throat a little, still staring at her. The intensity of his gaze forced her to look away. He gave a tiny smirk, and wondered if Potter had told her anything about Legilimency in relation to him. Even so, he hardly needed Legilimency to tell what the girl was thinking.

"Good evening, Miss Garrend," he spoke lowly to her.

"Good evening, Professor," she replied quietly, still looking away from him.

He rose from his desk, striding around it to meet her. He stood close to her, and she did not move away. Even though her gaze was directed at the floor, she could see that he was once again wearing his normal teaching robes. Standing this close to him, she detected the same pleasant scent she had come to associate him with. She nearly drowned in it the previous night, when he had kissed her so passionately. Swallowing hard, she had to fight to keep from shuddering.

"I believe we have advanced your wandwork quite enough for one week," he began, looking down at her. "I do not want to be accidentally assaulted again. We will continue with more wandwork next week. For tonight, however, I think we will begin having you venture into a little more complicated potionmaking."

Sarah took a sharp intake of breath, becoming excited. What luck. Snape raised an eyebrow at her.

"There is no need to be frightened or apprehensive of it, Miss Garrend," he spoke to her. "Despite your first somewhat disastrous venture into the field, your second attempt was quite good. You will be attempting to brew a little more complicated potion this evening. Of course, I would not have you working with any particularly dangerous ingredients just yet, so there is no need to worry."

"Oh," she said, turning to look up at him. He looked a little concerned. She knew that he had probably taken her little gasp of excitement for one of fear. It was only natural that potionmaking might have her a little nervous after what happened on her first attempt.

"Alright, that's fine," she said.

Snape nodded once at her, and then turned to move toward the small table of equipment that he had set up for her work. Picking up a small sheet of parchment, he walked back to her, holding it out.

"I will be making things a little more challenging tonight," he started, watching as the girl took the parchment from him and inspected it curiously, "By not putting out the ingredients for you. In addition to the detailed instructions I have provided for you, which are located on another piece of parchment on your table, I have listed out and described the ingredients which this potion will require."

He motioned to the wall opposite her table. It was stacked high with shelves that were packed full of bottles and jars containing things unknown to her. Her eyes widened.

"I will leave it up to you in order retrieve the ingredients which you will need," he explained. "Once you are finished, I will check it over quickly to make sure you haven't selected anything incorrectly. If you have all of the proper ingredients, you may begin."

Sarah looked down at the parchment in her hand, and then back up at Snape. He nodded to her again and moved back to his desk, taking his seat and getting back to his work.

Sarah turned toward the shelves Snape indicated for her. She stared blankly at them, eyes wide. She could hardly believe her luck. She doubted that Snape could have set things up any better for her even if he were somehow aware of their little plan. This was perfect, she thought. With this list in her hand, and having to retrieve the ingredients herself, she would easily be able to tell which of them he had the least of. After doing that, she would just have to work on running him out of it to the point where he would have to restock before she could continue. Then, with any luck, he would go to his storeroom, and she would insist upon accompanying him. As she thought on, she furrowed her brows.

_Wait a second,_ she thought to herself. _This is a little __**too**__ perfect._

She turned to Snape and regarded him.

Looking up from his work to check on the girl's progress, he saw that she was still standing in the same spot where he had left her, and staring at him. She looked confused, and almost a little frightened. He raised an eyebrow.

"Is something wrong, Miss Garrend?" he inquired.

_He couldn't possibly know,_ she thought to herself. She was just being stupid, and couldn't accept the fact that she'd gotten extremely lucky. Harry's plans sure did have a knack for being lucky beyond all belief, she realized. It was probably just his luck.

"No," she said casually, having convinced herself that everything was fine. "Everything's fine."

Snape continued looking at her until she turned back to the shelves. Once she did, he again busied himself with his work.

Sarah hastily examined the list before stepping up to the shelves. As she identified and collected what the list indicated for her, she took note of which ingredient he had the least of. This seemed to be the tribulus terrestris seeds. There only looked to be one of them, whatever they were. She carefully opened the jar, reaching inside and removing it. Placing the empty jar back up on the shelf, she examined the seed in her hand. There was a cluster of four seeds attached together. Glancing at the list again, she saw that this was exactly how many she needed for whatever potion she was brewing.

_Perfect,_ she thought to herself. _If I can screw these up, he'll have to get more._

About fifteen minutes later, Sarah was confident that she correctly retrieved all of the necessary ingredients on the list. Sitting down at her little table, she called to Snape, who quickly rose from his desk and walked over to her in order to inspect what she had gathered.

It took him only a few seconds to look over what she had brought out, and see that she managed to do it correctly. He gave her a nod, turning back to his desk.

"Good work," he said, sitting down at his desk again. "You may begin. This potion is a bit more complicated. Please read the instructions carefully."

Scooting her chair closer to her table and leaning over it, she looked down at the larger parchment onto which he wrote the instructions. Reading his small, cramped, spiky script, she discovered the particular potion that he was having her brew.

_**Amortentia**_

_The most powerful love potion in the world. It does not actually produce genuine "love", only a strong obsession and infatuation. It is recognizable by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen and by the fact that its steam rises in characteristic spirals. The potion smells unique to different people, depending upon what scents attract them most._

Beneath this small descriptive paragraph were detailed steps on how to brew it, but Sarah didn't read any further at that moment.

She swallowed hard, and her face felt hot. She didn't have to guess twice as to why Snape was having her brew _this_ particular potion. She already realized how he had not verbally broached the subject of their strange mutual attraction, or even tried to. Maybe this was his little nonverbal way of communicating it to her.

She surreptitiously glanced in his direction, but he did not look up from his work. She didn't know it, but he was trying to hide his smirk of amusement.

Out of the corner of his eye, he had seen her glance over at him. He could only assume that the girl had just seen what exactly she would be brewing, as she did not bother to ask before. He did enjoy toying with her, but in a good way. Her reactions were ever so amusing.

Looking back toward her table, Sarah set to work. The potion didn't call for the preparation and addition of the tribulus terrestris seeds until about halfway through, so she would have to brew the potion correctly up until that point. When she got there, she would have to somehow destroy the seeds or prepare them incorrectly so that they were not suitable for use in the potion. She greatly hoped that Snape would not become angry at her for doing this.

She worked very quietly for some time. Snape would occasionally glance up from his work to take in her progress. She seemed to be doing quite well. Unlike many of his students, she was following his detailed directions to the letter. There was no way anyone could go wrong with doing this, as he was an expert potionmaker. Continuing with his own work, he assumed that he needn't worry about her making another careless mistake with her potion and causing a mishap.

Unfortunately for Sarah, she should have been a little more careful in reading his detailed instructions when she came to the step which called for the preparation tribulus terrestris seeds. Once she saw the paragraph entitled _Preparing the tribulus terrestris seeds_, she looked no further than the next couple of lines. After all, she wasn't bothering to prepare them correctly; she was trying to mess them up as bad as she could.

During her brief glance at the paragraph, she saw that the seeds needed to be neatly and evenly cut into four separate sections. She thought this should be easy enough. All she had to do was cut them unevenly, or cut them into too many sections. Or, she thought happily, she could cut them into too many uneven sections! Perhaps she could even crush them. This would be simple.

Picking up her silver dagger, she looked down to inspect the cluster of four seeds, which was very small and brown in color. The individual seeds looked very peculiar, and greatly resembled a tiny goat or bull's skull. They were very spiny, with two larger spines sticking out like horns on either side. Assuming she should first break them apart before attempting to destroy them, she put down her dagger and picked up the little seed cluster, and started trying to snap it apart.

She applied pressure using her index and middle fingers, as well as her thumbs. They did not seem to want to separate very easily. Quickly growing impatient, she squeezed even harder and applied even more pressure. She gave a little surprised yelp when some of their spines bit into her fingers painfully, and she dropped the seed cluster back to the table.

Her slight noise had caused Snape to immediately look up at her. She sounded as if she had been hurt. Perhaps she had cut herself with her silver dagger.

"Are you alright, Miss Garrend?" he asked, leaning forward and looking as if he were about to rise from his desk.

Sarah quickly looked over at him, seeing that he was about to get up. She didn't want him to discover that she was attempting to destroy his ingredients purposefully.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she said quickly. "Everything's alright, really."

Regarding her curiously, Snape straightened back up and continued on with his work.

Looking back to her table, Sarah inspected her fingers. The pads of her index fingers, middle fingers, and thumbs were all oozing tiny droplets of blood. It wasn't serious by any means, and would stop soon. She saw that it had been no worse than a bad paper cut. Sighing, she realized that the seeds would not easily break apart, and she might have to read a bit more about how to properly prepare them for the potion before she could actually manage to destroy them. Sliding the parchment with the instructions closer to her, she began to re-read the paragraph which described the seeds.

_~ Preparing and adding the tribulus terrestris seeds:_

_Once you have finished stewing in the epimedium leaves, you must prepare the tribulus terrestris seeds for addition to the potion. The seeds can be difficult to prepare, and must be individually and evenly cut into four different sections. In order to do this, you must first separate the seeds in the cluster from one another. Using your dagger, you will need to carefully sever the small sectionals which hold the cluster together._

_Be warned; the seeds are quite sharp. Take care when separating them and cutting them up. Their spines are sharp enough to puncture the skin, and the seeds are a particularly potent ingredient in the potion. If punctured by them, there may be experienced effects of their powerful aphrodisiacal qualities. _

Sarah's eyes widened in horror.

_Oh crap,_ she screamed inside her head, _What have I done! I should have read the goddamn directions all the way! God damn it!_

She couldn't stop herself from lightly slapping her left palm to her forehead. Sighing deeply, she ran the hand over her face before straightening up again. In the corner of her eye, she had noticed that Snape again raised his head to look up at her, noticing her strange mannerism. She had to remain calm, she remembered. Taking a deep breath when she saw Snape look back down at his work, she inspected the seeds.

_Alright,_ she thought to herself, _There __**may**__ be experienced effects of their powerful aphrodisiacal qualities. That doesn't mean there __**will**__ be. I'll be fine._

After a few more moments of trying to convince herself, she again picked up her silver dagger. This time, she went about separating the seeds from one another as Snape had described in the instructions. As she severed the sectionals with the tip of the dagger, they easily came apart. She mentally cursed herself again for not completely reading the instructions. How many times, growing up in school, had her teachers constantly nagged for their students to read all of the instructions before doing anything? The teachers here were probably the exact same way. She sure blew that one.

Before she started to work on destroying the now separated seeds, she again examined her fingers. There were still tiny droplets of blood that had oozed out, but they had stopped bleeding. She carefully placed each of her punctured fingers in her mouth, licking and sucking off the blood. It tasted sharply metallic, and the punctures hurt about as much as a paper cut, which wasn't much at all. She had entirely no way of knowing that this was the absolute worst thing she could possibly be doing if she were trying to avoid the effects of the strange little seeds.

She also had absolutely no idea that Snape had discreetly looked up from his work to watch her as she did this, one eyebrow raised extremely high.

"You aren't tasting anything, are you?" he drawled at her. The last thing he needed was her eating raw potions ingredients, _especially_ those for this particular potion.

Sarah jumped a little and sat straight up, quickly turning to look at him. She had already removed her last index finger from her mouth and was shaking her head back and forth furiously.

"No," she said quickly, "I just... got a little cut from my dagger. That's all. I was being a little careless," she lied.

Snape nodded. His assumption that she accidentally cut herself, to his knowledge, had been correct. He then looked as if he were about to rise from his desk again, getting out of his chair a little.

"Shall I tend to it for you?" he asked, tilting his head a little at her. Subconsciously, he knew that a readiness to take care of her wounds would be another act of nonverbal communication. The _conscious_ part of his mind, however, convinced him that he just didn't want her bleeding into her potion and mucking it up.

Sarah shook her head quickly again, her face having colored. It was another almost kind gesture coming from him, and she hated to reject it.

"No, it's alright, really. It's tiny. No big deal," she said quickly, hoping as hard as she could that he would be convinced.

Eyebrow still raised, Snape slid back down into his chair and continued with his work.

Turning back to her table, Sarah let out a silent sigh of relief. If he were to come over, he might see that she had failed to fully read his instructions, let alone the fact that she was trying her best to destroy one of his ingredients. She didn't want him to become angry with her.

Picking up her dagger again, she began cutting away at the seeds. She took point to chop them very carelessly. One seed, she had chopped into three very uneven pieces which could not possibly be corrected into four even ones. Another, she chopped into four almost-even pieces, but cut another one of these pieces into two smaller, uneven ones. She invented equally creative ways to cut the other two seeds incorrectly, and make it look as if she could claim that she had first cut them unevenly and further destroyed them by trying to correct her mistakes.

As she was finishing up mangling her final seed, her eyes became a little unfocused as she worked. She paused in her cutting motions. It was a moment or two before she winced hard and reopened her eyes in order to clear up her vision. She had just zoned out a little. Attributing it to being overly tired, she completed her seed sabotage. She hadn't exactly slept very well the past few nights after the events with Snape.

Now all she had to do was break it to him that she'd messed up one of her ingredients and needed more. She pondered how she would do this. As she silently thought to herself, she absently tugged on the neck of her robes and became a little distracted. Had it gotten a bit hotter in here? It was probably just the heat from her cauldron. She had been sitting in front of it for quite a while now.

Clearing her throat softly and shifting her attention back to the issue at hand, she turned her head to look at Snape. He was still sitting at his desk, and now appeared to be fully absorbed in his work. He didn't notice her looking at him until she spoke up.

"Um," she started uncertainly, her voice very quiet, "Professor?"

Snape looked up from his work to regard the girl, but said nothing.

"I think I sort of... messed something up," she said timidly.

"What do you mean?" Snape inquired. Watching the girl as he waited for her response, he noticed that her face had colored again. This time, and he could not identify why, it looked a little different. She almost looked a little uncomfortable. She did always have a tendency to blush at him, so he didn't give it a second thought. It was a very normal reaction for her when he met her gaze with his own.

"Well, these little seeds...," she said, glancing to her work, and then back to Snape, "I had some trouble getting them apart and cutting them. That's when I accidentally cut my finger," she added, hoping to be extra convincing, "And I think I did it all completely wrong."

Snape rose from his desk and slowly moved around toward Sarah's table in order to examine the girl's mistake. As he did, Sarah shook the left sleeve of her robe down over her hand, covering it completely. It wouldn't do to have him see she hadn't actually cut herself at all. When he reached the table, he looked down at the seeds. He smirked.

"You certainly have, Miss Garrend," he said. "These will not be suitable for use, unless you wish the potion to be extremely volatile."

Sarah was nervously looking up at him as he spoke. Usually she did her best to avoid staring at him, or avoid his intense gaze; but now, it seemed like she didn't want to take her eyes off of him for some reason.

"What should I do?" she asked quietly, still staring up at him and not wanting to look away.

Snape looked down at the girl, his black eyes hard. He wasn't angry with her, but he was a little impatient that she had managed to so badly mangle one of her ingredients. When he noticed the girl's expression, he raised an eyebrow. Instead of looking away from staring directly into his eyes as per usual, she continued staring up at him. His brows then furrowed. Her eyes were still the correct color, but her pupils seemed oddly dilated, and she was still wearing the same heated blush that he'd noticed before.

"We will have to get you some more," he said simply, turning away from her. He moved to the shelves which lined the opposite wall, and began sifting through it. When he came to the jar containing the tribulus terrestris seeds, he picked it up and sighed when he found it to be empty. Placing the empty jar back on the shelf, he turned back to the girl.

"It appears you have used the last small amount I had in my office," he said, "But I believe I have some more in my stores. If you will excuse me, I will have to retrieve it."

Snape moved quickly for his office door. As soon as he placed his hand on it, Sarah leapt out of her chair.

"Wait!" she said loudly, one hand extended toward him. She looked a little frantic.

Snape turned back toward her, regarding her curiously.

"Can... can I come with you?" she asked softly. When Snape only continued staring at her confusedly, she spoke again. "I just don't want to be alone down here."

Snape thought to himself. The girl was afraid to be alone in the dungeons? He could perhaps understand that. This place was still fairly new to her, all things considered. Dungeons weren't exactly happy, welcoming places in which one wanted to be alone; except for _him_ of course. So she wanted to accompany him to his stores. He couldn't see the harm in allowing her to do so. It might even be good for her to briefly see the wide array of rare and exotic ingredients he kept in there.

"Very well, Miss Garrend," he told her. He then opened the door and stepped aside, indicating that she was to exit the office with him. Sarah quickly complied, hurrying out the door. He shut it behind them.

* * *

Harry snorted himself awake abruptly. Looking around frantically at his strange surroundings, he realized where he was. He sighed. He had quickly grown bored and tired while lying in wait under his invisibility cloak outside of Snape's storeroom. The Marauder's Map was still spread across his lap, and his wand was still lit and lying on top of it. He must have dozed off while staring intently at the two tiny dots in the dungeon which were labeled _Severus Snape_ and _Sarah Garrend_.

Yawning, he shifted to sit up a bit more straightly. Picking up his wand again, he bent over the map and began scanning it, quickly finding Snape's office. His eyes widened and he gasped; they weren't there. He began frantically scanning the corridors which he knew led from the office toward the particular corridor in which he was waiting. To his relief, he quickly located them. They were at least a couple minutes away still, and must have left his office a few minutes before.

"Mischief managed," said Harry, tapping the tip of his illuminated wand to the parchment of the map. Its detailed ink map and tiny moving dots quickly faded away, leaving it blank. Carefully refolding the map, he tucked it inside his robes.

"_Nox,_" he whispered, extinguishing the light from his wand and also placing it inside his robes. All he had to do now was wait.

They were coming.

* * *

Snape led Sarah on for quite a while, through many dark corridors of the castle in which she had never been before. She didn't recognize anything. As she followed behind him, she cast her eyes to the floor, and her heart started pumping frenetically. Her palms grew slightly damp, and she suddenly felt very warm. She attributed all of this to terrible nervousness. Their plan was now entering its key stage. Harry would be waiting outside the storeroom, invisible, and waiting for her to distract Snape before closing up so that Harry could gain entrance.

Beginning to feel slightly light-headed, she raised her eyes off of the floor to rest on Snape's back. It was then that she realized she felt very strange. Without having realized it, she was breathing very slowly and deeply, almost heavily, as if she were trying to slow down her out-of-control heart rate. Unfortunately, her pulse did not slow. It only quickened, pumping more adrenaline into her blood. As she took in her deep breaths, it seemed her sense of smell had greatly magnified somehow. Following a short distance behind Snape, she could taste his scent just as intensely as if he were on top of her again. It was just as intoxicating as it had been then. Her mind suddenly felt very foggy, and her eyes lost much of their focus. She blankly continued following along behind him, her unfocused eyes on his dark form, and breathing in his tantalizing scent.

A short time later, he came to a stop in front of an ordinary-looking wall. Sarah hardly took note of where they were. She watched him, entranced, as he felt out a section of the wall. Taking his wand out from inside his robes, he began performing intricate wand movements and speaking words that Sarah had never heard before. She saw the air in front of him shimmer. He then stepped to the wall and wrapped his hand around something and pushed forward. The small section of wall turned out to be a door which opened into a small, dark room with very high walls. Stepping inside, Snape flicked his wand at the ceiling, where a large lantern lit itself and filled the small room with light.

Drifting into the doorway, Sarah managed to tear her eyes away from Snape for a few brief moments in order to inspect the room. There were three high walls, all completely covered with shelving. A steep sliding ladder rested against the far wall, and a large lantern hung a small distance from the room's high ceiling. The shelves were completely packed with all manners of containers, holding countless ingredients. For some reason, the tiny room's temperature seemed utterly stifling to her.

Ending her quick examination of the room, she looked back to Snape. She found that, for some reason, it had been very difficult for her to look away from him in those few moments. She found herself not desiring to do so again. She watched him intently, her mind in a numb, heated fog.

After stowing his wand back inside his robes, Snape took a couple steps up the ladder and began sifting through one of the shelves. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the girl standing in the doorway, but could not tell that she was watching his every move with extreme fixation. He continued searching for the seeds in this particular shelf, on which he stored many potions ingredients derived from plants.

Sarah could not look away from him. Somewhere, knew something strange was going on with her, but she couldn't tell what. A clear voice somewhere in the back of her mind was trying to shout something out to her, but she couldn't understand what it was saying. She ignored it. Her mind was too fogged up.

All she could concentrate on was Snape. It felt as if all her senses had intensified a thousandfold. There was a dull ringing in her ears, interrupted only by her own pounding heartbeat and Snape's small rustlings as he searched through the shelf. The tiny enclosed room smelled so intensely of his intoxicating scent that she thought she might faint. She watched his every movement carefully, as if she could not possibly look at him enough. When she nervously balled her hands into fists, her skin tingled slightly.

Snape was completely oblivious to all of this in his search for the seeds.

Sarah was enthralled. All thoughts of her and Harry's plan, the very reason she was here in the first place, were forgotten. A different tiny voice inside her head was screaming at her quite clearly, screaming that she wanted desperately to touch this man. The tiny voice screamed that she wanted to be touched by him as well. It yelled and screamed that she wanted nothing more, with every fiber of her being, than to be close to him in any way possible. She felt nothing but her highly intensified senses, and this tiny screaming voice that absorbed her thinking consciousness wholly. There was simply no room for any other thought. It screamed and cried at her, urging her strongly to give in to its demands.

After a few more moments, Snape located a tiny corked jar containing several more seed clusters. Casually dropping it into one of the outside pockets of his robes, he descended the small steps of the ladder. Giving the room a quick once-over to be sure that everything was still in order (he could never be too careful), he turned to face the attractive, long-haired young witch who was blocking the doorway.

He did a small double-take when he took in her expression. His eyes widened. She was staring straight at him, and had probably been doing so this entire time, he realized. She looked extremely flushed. Her pupils were very widely dilated, and her eyes held a strange heat deep inside them as she stared back at him. She was breathing a little heavily. Her intense, unwavering stare was quite a departure from her usual blushing and sheepish glancing-away. Something was obviously amiss with the girl.

Taking a step closer to her, he had been just about to ask her what was the matter when she intercepted him. Before he knew what happened, Sarah had grabbed his right arm and pulled him, with surprising force, out of the small room. In the same split second, she had whirled him around so that he was flat up against the wall beside the door. He didn't even have time to speak or begin questioning the meaning behind her strange behavior before she had pressed her body flush against his own. His words died in his throat.

Snape stood there for a few moments, perfectly still, and very dazed. What did the girl think she was doing? He had never been pushed around by any of his students. He found that he could barely manage a coherent line of thinking with the girl's warm body pressing against his own. He swallowed hard. The girl didn't move.

Risking a look down at her, he saw that she was staring straight back up at him. Though the corridor was dark, he could still see her intense blushing by the dim light shining out of the storeroom beside them. Her eyes looked much the same as they did when she had wanted him to kiss her; he could see an intense heat in their depths, and he saw as she would glance down at his lips and back up again. Was that what this is about? Did the girl's strange attraction and desire for him have such intensity that she had been driven to forcefully place herself in his reach? He would have to find out. His own pulse quickened, and the corridor suddenly began feeling very hot.

Snape brought his arms up slowly and leaned back into the wall as the girl pressed into him. Hands trembling slightly, he carefully brought them to rest softly on the girl's hips. His black eyes never left hers as he did this, determined to immediately gauge her reaction. He was pleased when she let out a soft sigh and pressed her body against him harder. She was still breathing a little heavily, and he could feel her chest heaving against his own. He tightened his hands on her hips when he realized he could feel her breasts pressed against him. This rewarded him with another soft sigh. The girl seemed _extremely_ responsive, and he was right; Sarah, whose senses now seemed to have intensified hundreds of times over, found even his lightest touch dizzying.

He continued staring down at her. He felt extremely far out of his element. Needless to say, he had never been forcefully pushed up against the wall by a young, attractive female before. There was no logical explanation for this. It seemed entirely too good to be true. He was probably dreaming, he thought. Despite this, he resolved that even if he _was_ dreaming, though he sincerely hoped that he was not, he was not going to let this serendipitous situation go to waste.

Running his right hand up her back and through her long hair, he gently cradled the back of her head and tilted her to a better angle. Inclining his own head down toward her, he captured her mouth.

There was no tentative exploration this time; they immediately began kissing deeply and passionately. Sarah had to slightly raise herself up on tiptoe in order to kiss him more effectively, due to his height advantage. Her senses were overloaded. Every touch from him set her ablaze. She was drunk from his scent. The sound of his breathing made her feel hotter than she ever knew she could be. Bringing her own hands up, she placed them against him. There she felt the same flat, firm chest that she remembered from when this man had first carried her inside the castle. As she stood here, sharing a heated embrace with him, it seemed like an eternity ago.

Snape sighed softly when the girl began caressing his chest. He trailed the fingers of his left hand up and down over her side. She shivered and raised herself up a tiny bit higher, deepening their kiss even more. When his fingers traveled dangerously close to the side of her breast, she gave a small whimper. When Snape drew up for air, they were both panting heavily. He felt extremely hot. Never in his life had such raw desire and heat been directed straight at him. He found his own dormant desire and heat rising to meet it. Taking another firm hold of her hips, he easily switched their positions so that he had her backed up against the wall. Completely engrossed in her, he didn't even register the very faint sounds coming from within the storeroom.

Before she could try to raise herself up and continue kissing him, he dipped his head down so that his nose was very close to her neck. With him having a strong hold on her hips, as well as a significant height and strength advantage, she could do nothing but accept it.

So very close to her, he breathed her in deeply, the same sweet scent that he recalled as something similar to vanilla. She trembled when she felt his extremely hot breath against her. Again feeling out her reaction carefully, he began gently kissing her neck. When she moaned softly into his ear, he knew he had done something right. He continued kissing up and down her neck, sometimes adding his tongue, and then his teeth as well. When he did this, she groped his chest hard. Snape was now just about as overloaded and possessed with sensation as Sarah was.

Even though he had her backed up against the wall, he had maintained a short separation between their lower bodies for obvious reasons. He didn't want to frighten her or push her too far past whatever limit or boundary she might have. As he continued kissing, licking, and biting her neck, she continued groping him back and rewarding him with very soft gasps and moans. Completely overwhelmed, he decided that the girl might be responsive enough to accept the move he was contemplating. The situation was quite heated now, after all. The girl would be foolish not to realize by now that she was arousing him.

He slowly moved his foot so that his toe was against the wall, and the outside of his right foot was resting against the inside of her left. Biting her neck more firmly just below her ear in an attempt to distract her from what he was doing, he applied a gentle force to the inside of her foot, forcing it outward with his own. Her legs parted slightly, and she did not seem to object when she dug her fingers into his chest.

Capturing her lips again in another deep kiss, he slowly pressed his hips into hers. She moaned into his mouth. She could easily feel his heat through her clothing, and feel what she knew must surely be an impressive erection. She doubted she had ever been more hot in her entire life than with this dark, intense man who seemed so cold most of the time. He sure as hell wasn't cold _now_.

When he felt one of her hands sliding down his chest, he quickly shifted and captured her slim wrist in his large hand; he wasn't going to let her touch him just yet. Even though she had given rise to this heated exchange, he was now the one in charge.

Just for good measure, he took up her other wrist as well, and pinned them both against the wall above her head with his left hand. She gave a small disappointed groan which fast became another moan of pleasure when he resumed lavishing attention on her neck, this time to the other side. All the while, he kept his hips pressed flush against hers. He could dimly feel himself throbbing.

Greatly encouraged by her reactions so far, Snape decided it was time to further test the lengths of her responsiveness. Using his free right hand, he again trailed his fingers up her side, causing her to shudder. This time, instead of stopping when he drew close to the side of her breast, he trailed his fingers over the area. He watched as she moaned and arched her back off of the wall slightly.

This moan had been slightly louder than her previous ones. It jolted Snape back to a tiny bit of reality. In the midst of the heat, he had completely shattered his rule that he would not be caught with her in the middle of a corridor. Glancing around quickly, he took her by the wrists that he was still holding onto with his left hand. He dragged her back into the storeroom. There, he pressed her up against the steep ladder.

Although Sarah had forgotten all about him, Harry just had to quite literally dance around them in order to avoid coming into contact with them in the small, cramped room.

Luckily, only seconds before, he had located his quarry and stowed it in his robes under the cloak. When Snape had dragged Sarah back inside, he had to skillfully dodge them. He only missed them by about an inch or two.

Pressed up against one of the walls of shelves, he now had to let Sarah know that his job was finished and all was clear. He took in the scene before him. Snape had Sarah pressed back against the steeply leaning ladder, her wrists pinned above her head. She had been the one to initiate this, but it certainly appeared as if Snape had turned the tables on her very quickly. They were kissing passionately, and Snape's right hand was lightly caressing the side of her breast. Harry winced.

Opening his eyes only as much as he had to, he began slowly sidling his way along the wall toward the back of the room. Although he would much prefer to be hearing Ginny, he could deal with the sounds that he heard Sarah making, even if he felt guilty for it. It wasn't as if it could be helped in the current predicament he was in. He tried his best, however, to ignore Snape's labored breathing, and the reason for which he surely had Sarah pressed back against the ladder like that.

Reaching the back wall, Harry crouched down and slowly eased his way underneath the ladder. There, through two of the rungs, Sarah's shoulders were easily accessible. He had no choice but to watch as Snape passionately kissed her neck; he would have to take a hold of the opposite shoulder than the one he was over. Moving very slowly, he extended his right hand to Sarah's open shoulder from underneath the cloak.

Snape, who was at her neck, did not see when Sarah's eyes shot open suddenly. He didn't think anything of her startled gasp, assuming that he had been the cause of it. Sarah could now feel another hand on the shoulder opposite of where Snape was. It took her several moments to realize what was going on.

_Harry,_ she thought to herself. _The plan._ She had been so completely absorbed in her desire that she forgot all about it.

She then felt two firm squeezes.

_He's got the potion._

Harry immediately released her shoulder and looked away, not wanting to see any more of Snape's activities than he had to. Moving back up against the side wall, he slowly sidled his way back toward the door. Once he was away from the ladder, he mercifully had more space in which to move. When he reached the door, he quickly exited the room without looking back. Miraculously, he had made a clean getaway.

Back inside, Snape was in the process of even further testing the girl's responsiveness. He just couldn't stop himself; she was like a drug. The more encouraging and arousing responses he got from her, the more he wanted. Capturing her lips again, he lowered his hand. His fingers carefully found their way inside Sarah's robes, and soon she could feel his fingertips pressing against her bare skin. The girl's skin felt extremely hot.

He slowly trailed his fingertips up over the bare skin of her side, and when he reached her breast again, he placed his entire palm over it outside of her bra. His hands were quite large, and her breast was a handful for him. It felt perfect. When he gave it a firm squeeze, she moaned and broke their kiss to bite his bottom lip hard. He groaned softly at her ardor.

Drawing back, he looked into the girl's eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that he could take this much, much further, but he wouldn't exactly feel right taking his student standing up in his private storeroom. He licked his lower lip, tasting that the girl had drawn a bit of blood with her passionate bite. She had even wanted to touch him before, when he'd first let her feel his desire back out in the corridor. For whatever strange reason, this girl wanted him, and wanted him badly. Leaning down to kiss her neck softly a few more times, he gave her breast a final squeeze and then straightened up, removing his hand from inside her robes, and standing.

Sarah whimpered in disappointment. He gave her a wry smirk.

"I believe that is enough...," he cleared his throat, trying to think of what to say, and his voice was thick with desire, "..._physical_ education for you this evening, Miss Garrend. If I recall, there is a potion waiting for you back in my office, if it hasn't overcooked by now."

Sarah sighed and stood up as well, straightening her robes. She still felt extremely hot; the effects of the seeds had not yet worn off, but she could think more clearly now after having given in to its urges. She looked up at Snape, who was still looking down at her, his eyes full of heat.

Still feeling encouraged and slightly dazed from the effects the seeds had on her, she cleared her throat and spoke.

"Will there... be any _more_ 'physical education', Professor?" she purred.

Snape sighed resignedly.

"It appears so," he replied, placing a hand on her shoulder and shepherding her out of the room. Taking his wand out again, he flicked it at the ceiling lantern, which extinguished itself.

Stepping out of the room, he closed the door behind him and carefully reset his wards. Turning back to the girl, he saw that she was still staring at him, her expression laced with desire. She almost looked ready to force him up against the wall again. If he could guarantee that they would not be seen, he would not object.

"Having... _relations_... in open corridors is unwise, Miss Garrend. Come," he said, motioning for her to follow as he strode off back in the direction of his office.

* * *

Arriving back in the office, Sarah was fortunate to find that her potion had not overcooked while they were gone. For the next hour, she set to work on it again. This time, she took great care to follow Snape's directions to the letter, and to avoid the spines of the strange little seeds. She found it difficult to concentrate at first, but her mind gradually cleared up as their effects diminished. Luckily, there were no more mishaps, and she was successfully able to complete her potion. Aside from destroying her first set of seeds, Snape had told her she did an excellent job.

After bottling a small sample of her work for her to keep as he had promised before, he moved to the office door and opened it for her, standing aside out in the corridor. Apparently it was now unspoken that he would be escorting her back to her room. Blushing, she silently accepted his offer with a small smile and left the office with him.

She remained silent the entire way up to the seventh floor corridor, but she was not adverse to looking at him and meeting his eye. Snape was surprised at this. If tonight's events had managed to do anything, he thought, it would be to make her even more skittish and timid around him. He had been rather aggressive after she practically threw herself at him. Instead, she seemed more acclimated to his presence. Almost comfortable. This was a good sign.

After Sarah paced back and forth in front of the blank stretch of wall in order to make her door appear, Snape opened it for her as he always did. But instead of going inside, she moved right up to him where he stood, getting very close. She was staring at his chest, her small bottle of Amortentia held in her hands in front of her. She cleared her throat softly.

"I don't really think I need to drink any of this," she said softly. She sounded sheepish again. They had made a lot of physical progress over the course of the evening. She now wanted to make some verbal progress as well.

She stared down at the bottle she held for a moment, and then looked up into his eyes. Blushing again, she greatly hoped that he would understand her meaning.

Regarding her, he gave a soft sigh. He did understand her meaning, even though he could barely comprehend how this had all come to pass.

"Nor do I need to," he admitted quietly.

She dropped her gaze back to his chest.

"It smells like you," she whispered. There. She had done it. She had openly admitted to being attracted to him, even though there could not possibly be a shadow of a doubt in his mind by now.

"I know," he replied. He had already admitted that he needn't drink any of the potion in regards to her either. That was quite enough for one night. Perhaps he would tell her later that as he bottled the potion for her, it smelled of her same sweet vanilla scent.

When she did not look up at him again, he placed his left hand under her chin and tilted her head up as he was so used to doing. She was still blushing, and her eyes still held the same heat, but she looked calmer now.

He slowly bent down and placed a light, affectionate kiss on her lips. Moving his hand from her chin, he gently brushed some of her long hair back over her shoulder.

"Good night," he told her softly, giving her a small bow. When she quietly returned his good night, he turned and left down the darkened corridor.

Sarah stood in her open doorway for quite some time, staring out into the darkness where Snape had disappeared. She was hoping with all of her might that the next time she saw him, he would be the same Snape that had just affectionately bid her goodnight.


	13. Spying and Mischievous Firewhiskey

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 13: Spying and Mischievous Firewhiskey.

* * *

After Harry hurriedly escaped the confines of the storeroom, he had quickly made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. Since he had reappeared well over an hour after Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were expecting him to, it was difficult to play off where he had been. He quickly cobbled together an excuse which involved taking a walk and dropping by to see Hagrid after having walked Sarah to Snape's office. Even though they seemed slightly suspicious at first, Harry remained as nonchalant as possible, and they eventually bought it. It was a long while later when he was able to successfully extract himself from their presence.

As soon as he was able, he went up to his dormitory and attempted to stash the small bottle of Polyjuice potion in the bottom of his trunk, wrapped in socks.

After a moment or two, he stilled. He realized that he hid his Felix Felicis this way as well a couple years back, and that Ron had seen when he'd given it to him on the fateful night he left the castle with Dumbledore. He wanted to take the utmost care in keeping the potion hidden until it was time to use it. If Ron, Hermione, or Ginny were to somehow find out, he would have a world of explaining to do.

Harry sighed. Where else could he hide it? His options weren't numerous. After a few more moments of thought, he decided that he would go back to see Sarah. He could have her hide it in her room. It wasn't as if she was living with someone else who might accidentally stumble upon it, or even go looking for it, as Ron might. If Hermione or Ginny grew too suspicious enough of Harry's activities, they might prod Ron to snoop around. The potion would be safest in Sarah's room until it was time to use it.

Donning his invisibility cloak again, Harry crept back down into the common room. He had been worried about how he would discreetly sneak back out of the portrait hole, but was relieved to see that Ron and Hermione had begun snogging a little. That would distract them nicely, he thought. Looking away to afford them some privacy, he made his way over to the portrait hole, idly wondering where Ginny had gone and if he should try and sneak up to see her later. Of all the amazing things that Harry and Ron had accomplished, they still had not managed to engineer a way to get up into the girl's dormitories without the staircase turning into a smooth stone slide, denying them entry. _**Everyone**__ seems to be snogging tonight,_ he thought to himself. _Even __**Snape**_.

As he made his way toward the Room of Requirement, he couldn't help but reflect upon what he had tried his hardest not to see back in the storeroom. The plan was for Sarah to distract Snape, and she did just that. They certainly had been quite passionate. Harry had carefully given Sarah the all-clear, but he had no idea how far things may have carried on after he left. It was hard enough for him to accept the fact that Snape had been snogging anyone, let alone his friend. It was even harder to imagine that he might have taken it a step further, right there in the storeroom. Harry shuddered involuntarily.

It was so strange to imagine Snape in that context. As he turned the corner into the seventh floor corridor, he was greatly hoping that Sarah was back in her room. He was also greatly hoping that she was alone in there. If for some reason Snape had accompanied Sarah not only back _to_ her room, but _into_ it, Harry would certainly be spending the next several weeks in the hospital wing courtesy of Snape.

Pacing back and forth in front of the blank stretch of wall, he made Sarah's door appear. Approaching it, he took a deep breath before knocking softly.

It was several moments before anything happened. Harry grew worried. Either Sarah was inside, fretting about who could be at the door and trying to decide whether or not to open it, or he was about to get a very unpleasant greeting from an angry Snape. When the door finally swung open, he was relieved to see only Sarah, but still quickly glanced over her shoulders and peered around her room to be sure that she was alone.

"Harry," Sarah breathed. He quickly looked her over; she looked slightly flushed and a bit disheveled. Harry didn't have to guess why. Despite having said his name, she did not move aside. She stared out into what appeared to her to be an empty corridor. Harry blinked at her.

"Oh," he said softly, realizing that he was invisible. Pulling off his cloak, he watched as Sarah's eyes focused on his newly appeared form. He gave her a small smile. "Hey Sarah. Can I come in?"

"Sure," she said softly, stepping aside for him to enter.

As Harry stepped inside, he gave the room another once-over, and also peered into the bathroom. Sarah's room was indeed empty except for her, but he couldn't be too careful. During his inspection of the room, he had noticed that her sheets were not turned down in spite of the fact that she was now wearing her comfortable pajama robes. The fireplace was burning lowly, and only one of the sconces was lit. It made the room fairly dim. On the nightstand, there was a small uncorked bottle, and a few small scraps of parchment which had been written upon. When he heard the door close softly behind him, he turned back to face Sarah.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" he asked, casually throwing his cloak down on the foot of her bed.

"No, not at all. I was just... lying around, really," she replied sheepishly. As she regarded Harry, her eyes involuntarily flickered over to her nightstand where the small bottle of Amortentia was standing uncorked. Harry didn't miss it.

Turning back to Sarah's nightstand, Harry carefully picked up the small bottle. He could only imagine that it contained whatever Snape had instructed her to brew this evening. Not being able to identify it outwardly, he raised it close to his nose, where he passed it back and forth a few times and sniffed gently. He could distinctly detect the scent of treacle tart, broomstick handles, and Ginny's flowery likeness. His eyes widened as he turned back to the girl standing near the door. She blushed.

"This isn't Amortentia, is it?" he asked, sounding surprised.

Sarah nodded a couple of times, moving further into the room. Harry turned back to the nightstand and corked the small bottle, setting it back down. He realized that she had probably been sitting here enjoying its scent, though what it smelled like to her, he dare not ask. He could probably hazard a guess.

"Professor Snape had you make it tonight?" he asked, turning back toward Sarah.

"Yeah," she replied softly.

Harry snorted a little.

"Not very subtle, is he?" he laughed. Instead of getting a smile out of Sarah, he saw that she still appeared flushed and was looking away from him. His eyes narrowed a little in thought, again reflecting on the passionate scene that he partially witnessed. "You didn't _take_ any of it, did you?"

Harry easily recalled just what a powerful reaction a love potion had on Ron just a few years previously.

"Of course not," Sarah smirked. "But I think I might as well have. I did a really great job of picking which ingredient to mess up," she said, her tone sarcastic.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

He watched as Sarah moved toward him, gently pushing him aside to access the nightstand. Picking up one of the pieces of parchment, she folded it over so only a portion of it showed. Handing it to Harry, she moved back across the room, where she turned one of the chairs in front of her fireplace to face him.

Harry plopped down to sit on the edge of Sarah's bed as he examined the parchment. He squinted. It was a bit too dark. Taking his wand out of his robes, he flicked it at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It began to glow semi-brightly, giving him enough light to read by. Looking back down at the parchment, he immediately recognized the spiky, cramped script to be Snape's. He silently read the small paragraph describing the tribulus terrestris seeds. When he finished, he began to laugh.

"You didn't," he said to Sarah, still laughing.

Sarah, now seated in one of her comfortable chairs, folded her arms across her chest.

"No wonder you two seemed so... passionate." Harry continued laughing to himself.

"Well, I had a little help," Sarah said curtly.

"What did you do to them?" Harry asked, gesturing to the parchment.

"I was trying to crush them or tear them up, but they wouldn't come apart," Sarah explained. "I squeezed them a little too hard and they pierced my skin. I was fine at first, but when I was following Professor Snape to the storeroom I started feeling... weird. I guess I should be thankful that the seeds gave me a little push... I was so nervous, I probably would have choked otherwise," she sighed.

"Enjoy the plan, then?" Harry winked at her suggestively. Sarah glared at him, but not harshly.

"Oh yes," she said, her tone dry, "I just _loved_ snogging with your teacher and getting felt up by him too. I'm disappointed he didn't take me right then and there against the ladder. I'm _sure_ you could tell how much we were enjoying it, Mr. Invisible. Did you hear us _moaning?_" she drawled. If Harry was going to joke around, she was going to be as honest as possible and perhaps make him regret it a little.

Harry, unable to keep a straight face at her description, laughed again. That had sounded completely Snapeworthy in candor.

"Okay, okay," he surrendered, "Too much. At any rate, I got what we were after."

Harry reached inside his robes and withdrew the small bottle of Polyjuice potion. It was a tiny amount, he knew, only enough for about an hour's transformation at most. Hopefully, that should be more than enough time for them to accomplish their goal. Harry stood and moved to where Sarah sat, handing her the potion, and then retaking his seat on the edge of her bed.

Sarah turned the small bottle over in her hand, examining it.

"And this is going to turn you into someone else?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at the potion.

"That's right," Harry told her, "But not automatically. I'll have to get something from the person I want to turn into first."

"Get something?" Sarah inquired. She knew that the strange potion Harry obtained would be able to turn him into someone else, but she had no idea how it actually worked.

"Right," Harry started, "That's the way Polyjuice potion works. You have to get a piece of the person you want to turn into, and add it to the potion. A piece of hair works just fine."

Sarah quirked a brow.

"So _what_ exactly are we going to be doing with this?" she asked. She wanted Harry to explain his little plan in greater detail now.

"Well," he started, "Last time, I spent a while staking out in front of the Ministry, to figure out who we could count on to be there at the same time every day. We had to get three of us inside. This shouldn't be as bad. We already know exactly where we're going, and getting one person in safely should be much easier."

"How do you figure?" Sarah asked, still idly turning over the bottle in her hand.

"Here's what we'll do," Harry said, sounding serious. His brows furrowed a little in thought. "I'll go it alone first, and sneak in there with my cloak. Then, I can watch what goes on inside the Obliviator Headquarters, and see if I can tell who the higher-ups are. Those are the people that should have access to whatever it is we're looking for. Once I've figured that out, I'll just have to see which exit the person I pick uses to come and go from the place. After that, it's only a matter of intercepting them whenever they happen to show up to work the next day."

"Intercepting them?" Sarah asked.

"We'll have to confund them or something," Harry explained. "So they don't go into work. We can't have the real person running around if I'm trying to impersonate them."

"So let me get this straight," Sarah said, sitting up a little more. "You're going to sneak into the Ministry, pick a mark, and then _assualt_ a Ministry official in order to impersonate them and steal sensitive records?"

"That's right," Harry replied, sounding completely unfazed.

Sarah rolled her eyes a little and sighed.

"I'm starting to think Hermione was right," she said. "This is sounding crazier by the minute."

"It'll be fine, trust me," Harry tried to assure her. "This will be a picnic compared to what I had to do in there _before_. It might sound a little sketchy, but at least there's not Death Eaters running 'round all over the place in there anymore, right? If I happen to get caught, I doubt they're going to be yelling 'hey, we've got undesirable number one!'. It'll be just fine. And no matter what happens, remember, _you're_ under that cloak. No one is going to see you, its protection is flawless."

"I guess you're right," Sarah sighed. She knew Harry had an aptitude for plans like this, but it still made her nervous. "And when is all of this going to happen?"

"We can start tomorrow," Harry said, sounding hopeful. "I can ask Professor McGonagall if I can take you back to Diagon Alley for a bit more shopping, now that you're not so clueless about everything there."

"I haven't got any of my Muggle money changed over to your money yet," said Sarah.

"That's fine," Harry said quickly, "I've got loads. I can lend you some. If she lets us go, I'll take you there. Then, all you'll have to do is keep yourself busy shopping during the afternoon while I sneak into the Ministry. Once I've figured everything out, I'll come back for you."

"And what exactly am I supposed to shop for all afternoon?" asked Sarah.

"Anything you like!" Harry assured her. "Trust me. I'll give you some galleons, and you'll be all set. Just keep yourself busy. I might even give you a bit of a shopping list, there will be a couple things I want to take into the Ministry when we go, but I'm out of them."

"Are you sure?" Sarah pressed. She knew she still owed Professor McGonagall money for her last shopping trip, even if the kindly old woman told her that she didn't owe her anything. Sarah still felt a little guilty about it, and wasn't too keen on starting a new tab with Harry.

"Trust me," Harry said firmly, "I've got more gold than I know what to do with. I'd be glad for you to take a bit of it off my hands."

"If you say so," replied Sarah, still sounding unsure.

"I do," Harry said. "Now, if this works out, it should let me figure out what I need to know. Then we can decide when we actually want to go through with it. If tomorrow's Saturday, and we get to go to Diagon Alley, we might be able to do it as early as Sunday."

"Sunday?" Sarah repeated, sounding a little shaky. She swallowed hard. She hadn't expected their plan to be ready to execute this quickly, and she would be lying if she told Harry that she was completely unafraid of what they were going to do.

Harry nodded once at her. Sarah sighed.

"I guess then is as good a time as any," she admitted.

"That's what I say," Harry told her confidently. He recalled how Ron and Hermione hadn't exactly been thrilled when he'd told them that they should get their plan underway sooner than later. Hesitating for a long time wouldn't do much to make them more prepared in either case, when what they were seeking was just sitting there waiting for them.

"And what about Sunday, then?" Sarah asked. "What are we going to use as an excuse for going back to London?"

Harry sat silent in thought; he hadn't planned that much out.

"I know," he said at last. "I'll ask if I can take you into Hogsmeade then, to show you around. Perfectly believable."

Sarah gave a small smile. Harry sure knew how to make up excuses on the spot and cover his tracks very well.

Harry stood, scooping up his cloak from the foot of her bed.

"I'll go see Professor McGonagall about it tomorrow. With any luck, she'll give me permission to take you to Diagon Alley," he said, swinging his cloak about his shoulders so he still remained visible as he faced Sarah. "If I've got everything I need when we get back, I can ask her for permission to take you into Hogsmeade on Sunday. She should be fine with it, I think."

"Alright," Sarah said, also standing. Taking a couple steps toward Harry, she extended her arm, holding the small bottle of Polyjuice potion out to him. He shook his head at her.

"That's the reason I came, actually," he said, extending his own arm and gently pushing her hand holding the bottle back toward her. "I wanted you to keep it until it's time, I think it'll be safer here than in my trunk."

"Alright," said Sarah. "I'll just stick it underneath some of my clothes."

Moving toward the large wardrobe, she opened its doors and pulled open one of the drawers at random. Happening to have chosen her undergarment drawer, she blushed a little and quickly shoved the small bottle underneath her bras and panties. Harry, who had been watching over her shoulder, snorted.

"Just be sure Professor Snape doesn't look in there," he said, laughing by the time he reached the end of his sentence.

Sarah smirked and closed the drawer loudly, rounding on Harry.

"If you don't stop giving me such a hard time, I'll make sure he does," she said, giving him a little glare.

"I'm sorry," Harry smiled. "Like I told you before, the whole thing is just-,"

"I know, I know, I'm absurd," Sarah said, sounding irked. She placed her hands on Harry's shoulders and started shepherding him to the door. "The night awaits, Mr. Invisible. I'm sure you're dying to go and find more happily snogging couples to watch."

Reaching the door, Harry pulled it open, laughing again.

"Actually, before I left the common room, Ron and Hermione were-,"

Sarah cut him off.

"Alright, alright. I'll see you tomorrow," she sighed, pushing him out of the door.

"Good night, Sarah. I'll come and find you as soon as I speak to Professor McGonagall," Harry told her, wrapping his cloak around himself entirely so that he disappeared.

"Good night, Harry," Sarah said to the empty corridor, closing her door.

Walking back inside her room, she shut the doors to her wardrobe, and then moved to her bed where she finally turned down the sheets. Before lying down, however, she carefully picked up her small bottle of Amortentia again. Uncorking it, she sighed softly as she took in its scent. It smelled just like him. She idly hoped that if he were to smell it as well, that it would smell like her. She carefully re-corked it and set the bottle back down on her nightstand.

Settling into the bed, the chandelier and sconce dimmed themselves for her, and then put themselves out. The fireplace continued to burn lowly. As she closed her eyes and began trying to fall asleep, she felt a strange empty feeling inside at the knowledge that tomorrow was Saturday. Aside from all her nervousness about the weekend's plans, she felt a little disappointed; she would not have another lesson with Snape until Monday. It seemed to be ages away.

* * *

The following day, shortly before lunch, Harry was making his way toward the Headmaster's study that he so often frequented over the past years. Instead of being occupied by Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall was running the show, and she was doing as good a job as Dumbledore could ever have hoped for. Daylight was shining in through the windowed corridors as he went. The day outside was cloudy and chilly, but not overly dark. As he walked, Harry mentally reviewed how his conversation with Professor McGonagall would go. He would politely ask that he be able to take Sarah shopping in Diagon Alley once again, now that she wasn't so clueless about magic and had a better idea of some of the things she might need in order to study more successfully.

If she granted him this permission, he and Sarah would leave after eating lunch with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny in the Great Hall. That way, they wouldn't have to slip off and risk arousing their suspicion. Harry would tell them the truth; well, part of it, at least. He would tell them that they were going to take a trip to Diagon Alley for the afternoon, under Professor McGonagall's permission. He would omit the parts about him sneaking into the Ministry on another reconnaissance mission. If Harry only told them what they needed to know, and no more than that, he couldn't see anything suspicious about it. Once in Diagon Alley, after a quick stop at Gringotts, Harry would leave Sarah to occupy herself for the afternoon while he went to the Ministry. It seemed foolproof.

As Harry approached the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's tower, he was surprised to see as it stepped aside. He hadn't even given a password yet. All confusion was removed when Professor McGonagall emerged from behind it a few moments later. She seemed deep in thought, and looked a little startled when she noticed Harry standing in front of her.

"Potter!" she said, placing a hand on her chest. "I didn't see you there." She then examined him, expecting to find his invisibility cloak somewhere on his person. Harry smirked.

"I was just coming to see you," Harry said politely, "Completely visible, in fact."

McGonagall smiled.

"What can I do for you, Potter?" she asked.

"Actually, Professor, I was wondering if I might ask your permission for something," Harry said, trying to sound as polite and casual as possible.

McGonagall let out a high chuckle.

"Potter? Ask Permission for something?" she laughed. Harry strolling right up to an authority figure and asking permission to do something was unheard of. He'd broken more rules in his Hogwarts career than several graduating classes combined. "Perhaps Miss Garrend has had some strange effect on you. You have never bothered to ask permission for anything before!" she said, sounding greatly amused.

Harry smiled at her. He supposed that he could see the humor in the situation.

"Actually, Professor, she's why I was coming to see you," he said.

"Is something wrong, Potter?" asked McGonagall. Her expression became one of concern. She had spent nearly every free moment since the girl's arrival fretting about her, and attempting to unravel the mystery behind her circumstances.

"No, not at all," Harry said quickly. "I was just wondering if you would let me take her for another trip to Diagon Alley. She's been talking about wanting to go back, but it's not as if she would be able to get there on her own yet."

"To Diagon Alley?" McGonagall repeated, sounding neutral.

"Yes, Professor," Harry pressed. "I think it might do her some good to take another trip there, now that she's not so clueless about magic. She might be able to buy a few things that might help her out, now that she knows what they are. She seems to have taken a shine to potions, and I think she wants to buy some things of her own at the Apothecary."

McGonagall smirked. She didn't have to guess twice as to why the girl might have taken an interest in that particular field of study. Her teacher had probably driven her in that direction with enthusiasm.

"And when would you like to go, Potter?" asked McGonagall.

"I was thinking this afternoon, Professor," Harry said. "It's Saturday, so both of us are free for the afternoon. I was thinking we could leave after lunch, and come back sometime after supper."

He wanted to leave a wide window of time in which to operate. If he were to tell McGonagall that he would be back very soon, she might become worried if he were to be late. Leaving all afternoon and part of the early evening should be more than enough time.

McGonagall looked at Harry thoughtfully. She couldn't see any reason why they shouldn't be able to go. They were both of age, of course. On top of that, Harry would have already completed his education at Hogwarts had he not spent the entire previous year locked in mortal struggle with the Dark Lord. It was unusual to allow students to take trips like this, but she really couldn't see the harm. As far as she was concerned, he should be able to do whatever he liked by now, and Sarah wasn't even technically a Hogwarts student. After a few moments, she nodded at him.

"Very well, Potter," she said. "You may go as long as you both check in with me when you return."

Smiling, Harry felt elated inside. The first step of their many-tiered plan was complete. He had permission to take Sarah to Diagon Alley. As long as everything went according to plan today, obtaining permission to take her into Hogsmeade tomorrow should be simple. It was, after all, much closer to the school than London. It was even an approved location for students to visit on certain weekends of the school year. It would be a snap.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, "We'll check in with you as soon as we get back."

After giving Harry a curt nod of recognition, McGonagall continued on her way. Heading down a different hallway, Harry began making his way back through the castle toward Sarah's seventh floor corridor. Being quite excited, he wanted to tell her right away that they had permission to go. He knew that she was apprehensive about their plan. She shouldn't be nervous about _this_ part at least, Harry thought. All she had to do was spend the afternoon shopping while he did the dirty work. She would probably enjoy having another visit to Diagon Alley where she was free to look around at her leisure instead of being hurried along by Snape.

Reaching the seventh floor corridor, he quickly paced back and forth in front of the blank stretch of wall. Sarah's door promptly appeared, and he immediately knocked several times. It was only a few moments before Sarah opened the door. Harry was glad to see that she was no longer looking flushed and disheveled, as she had been last night. She looked fresh and ready for the day.

"Hey Harry," she said, "So nice of you to let me actually see you when you knock on my door."

Harry smirked.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I forget I'm wearing it half the time, really. I wanted to come give you the good news."

Sarah tilted her head at him quizzically.

"I've gotten permission from Professor McGonagall," he said. "She's going to let us go to Diagon Alley this afternoon, after lunch."

Sarah nodded. _It won't be so bad,_ she thought to herself. _All I've got to do is shop all afternoon until Harry comes back._

"And what are we going to tell the others?" she asked.

"Only as much as we need to," Harry replied. "When we leave, we'll just tell them that we're going to Diagon Alley for the day, and that we've got permission from Professor McGonagall. They can't argue with that. There'll be things you need to buy now that you know more about what's going on."

"Like what?" asked Sarah.

"Well, like potions materials," Harry said. He had told McGonagall that one of the reasons Sarah wanted to go to Diagon Alley was to visit the Apothecary. It couldn't hurt if she actually went there to bolster his story. "Don't you want to be able to make your own? Using your own things?"

Sarah looked contemplative. She didn't really know the full extent of what potions could do, but it seemed like they could be extremely useful. She wouldn't mind having her own things on hand in case she wanted to make something on her own, outside of her lessons. After all, her room had created a Potions textbook for her when she moved in.

"Yeah, I guess so," she admitted.

"I'm sure there are loads of other things you'll find, too," Harry assured her. "You barely got to see anything last time you went. This time, you'll have all afternoon to look around at whatever you like."

"Alright," said Sarah. It did sound like she might actually be able to have some fun; that is, if she were able to keep herself from worrying about Harry all day. "We're leaving after lunch?" she asked, peering at Harry's starry watch and being unable to read the time from her angle.

"Yeah," Harry said, noticing Sarah's glance and raising his watch up to look at it. "Just come down in about half an hour. We'll have lunch with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, and then we'll go."

"Okay," said Sarah. "See you soon."

Harry nodded at her and headed off. Shutting the door, Sarah moved back over to her bed and sat down. When Harry had arrived, she was reading a book about magical creatures. She was planning on seeing Hagrid again next week, and wanted to be a little more prepared this time around. Picking up the book, she dog-eared the page that she had left off on, having been fascinated by the chapter dedicated to dragons. She set the book down on her nightstand and sighed softly when she set eyes on the small bottle of Amortentia.

She reached out to the bottle and picked it up. After turning it over in her hand a few times, she uncorked it and took in its scent. It smelled just like Snape. She still had a strange, empty feeling inside from knowing that she wouldn't be seeing him again until Monday. What would she do all evening when she and Harry got back from Diagon Alley? She would probably be very bored.

Re-corking the bottle carefully, she set it back down and sighed to herself again. This was crazy. Was she so powerfully attracted to this dark, mysterious man that she was already missing him? It was only for the weekend, she realized. Once Monday rolled around, she would be back into her lessons every night. The past week, it had become so routine to be nervously anticipating what would happen in her next lesson that she felt strange without the tingling sensations of it. She would just have to look forward to Monday's lesson even more. Perhaps she could surprise him before then, and put in a little potions practice on her own.

Standing up, Sarah moved over to her bathroom. As it lit itself for her, she leaned into the mirror, peering into her eyes and inspecting them closely. They were still the same normal color of brown that she had always known. Ever since the charm had mysteriously worn off during Thursday night's lesson, she had been checking them frequently in an effort to avoid the disaster of having it fade in public. When Snape reapplied the charm, he told her that he applied it more strongly in order to protect against this, and so far his words seemed to be true. Her eyes appeared normal as ever, and if not for getting that potion in her eyes, she might not know about their shift in color at all.

Sarah spent the next short while getting herself ready to leave. Her preparations including leafing through the Potions textbook from her bookshelf, eyeing some of the more common ingredients that she might be able to pick up at the Apothecary later in the day. She had an entire afternoon to wile away shopping. She had never been much for shopping, usually only doing it when she actually needed something. She was excited, however, and already knew that shopping in Diagon Alley was infinitely more fun than anywhere she could have possibly shopped in the Muggle world.

* * *

A while later, Sarah and Harry were finishing up lunch in the Great Hall with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Throughout the meal, all three of them were curiously observing Sarah, to see if she would display any further signs of her strangely nervous behavior. Unfortunately for them, she was acting normally. There was no anxiety over seeing Snape in the evening since it was Saturday, and she knew that all she had to do was spend the afternoon shopping in Diagon Alley while Harry took care of whatever he needed to within the Ministry. After a while, they seemed satisfied that Sarah was fine, and stopped discreetly scrutinizing her.

When they finished eating, Harry and Sarah began rising from the table. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny looked at them curiously.

"Well, we're off," Harry said casually.

"Where are you two going, then?" Ron asked, sounding confused.

"Diagon Alley," Harry stated. "Sarah wants to do some more shopping, and Professor McGonagall gave us permission to go for the afternoon."

Hermione looked thoughtful. Taking day trips to London wasn't exactly common practice for Hogwarts students, but she couldn't see anything suspicious about it. Taking note of her expression, Harry spoke up again.

"We should be back around supper time, don't worry," he said. After he had risen from the table, he leaned down to give Ginny an affectionate kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you later," he told her quietly.

"Alright," Ron said resignedly. He sounded a little disappointed, as he was hoping to go down to the pitch with Harry later for a bit of practice. Hermione regarded them, and nodded silently.

When Harry and Sarah left the Great Hall, they began heading for the castle's main entrance. As he walked, Harry patted his pockets, assuring himself of their contents.

"I've got my cloak," he said, "I've got my wand, I've got my last Decoy Detonator. That should be everything I need," he listed off.

"Decoy Detonator?" Sarah repeated. She looked to Harry in a small attempt to glance inside of the pocket containing the mysterious item.

"Yeah, it's this wonderful little thing, very useful," Harry said, patting his pocket again. "If you need a distraction, you just drop it, and it runs off and makes a loud noise out of sight."

Sarah raised her eyebrows. That did sound pretty useful. She imagined that it could provide him with just the distraction he might need to get away if he were to get into trouble.

When they reached the entrance hall, they found that the castle's large doors were open for the day. They stepped outside into the chilly air. The day was still very cloudy, and there was even a thin settling of fog that could be seen on the edges of the Forbidden Forest. Sarah imagined that the weather probably wouldn't be much nicer in London. Fortunately, she dressed for the occasion, putting on her warmest robes and her hiking boots. She decided to leave her Gryffindor scarf behind; she didn't want to attract any attention to herself. People might think it strange for a Hogwarts student to be walking around in Diagon Alley in the middle of a Saturday during term.

Harry wrapped his arms around himself. He didn't go out of his way to dress warmly, as he knew he would be inside most of the day. In addition to this, the less clothing he had to hinder his movement, the better. He would need to remain invisible all day underneath his cloak, and this required being extremely mobile and agile to avoid unexpected contact. If he were not so very practiced with stealth, Snape most certainly would have discovered him in the storeroom last night after he dragged Sarah inside. Harry was able to nimbly dodge out of their way.

They soon reached the edge of the school's grounds. Once they were outside the castle's protective perimeter, Harry turned to Sarah and held out his arm.

"You know how this works, right?" he asked her.

Sarah nodded, having already experienced Side-Along Apparition with Snape. She quickly stepped forward and locked her arm in Harry's, shutting her eyes tight in anticipation of the strange sensation she was about to experience. Watching her, Harry smirked. He didn't really care much for the sensation of Apparition either. Squeezing her arm tightly in his, he turned on the spot and dragged them into nothingness.

Sarah's reappearance in the material world was much smoother this time around. She still wouldn't have the faintest idea how to go about learning to Apparate on her own, but she seemed to have gotten used to being taken by Side-Along fairly quickly. Instead of stumbling to the ground, she landed steadily on her feet with Harry beside her. Glancing around, she found herself in the same dark alleyway that Snape had Apparated them into on her first visit. She slid her arm out of Harry's, but he took another moment or two looking her over to be sure that she was alright.

"To the Leaky Cauldron, then?" asked Sarah.

Harry nodded and smiled at her, leading her out of the alley. Sarah had been right, and the weather in London wasn't much nicer at all. It was just as chilly and just as cloudy, maybe even moreso. At least it had been clear by Hogwarts; here, it was lightly drizzling. The pair walked hurriedly along the streets, receiving a few curious glances from passersby due to their somewhat abnormal attire. Sarah couldn't care less. She found that she much preferred her casual robes to Muggle clothing, even though she still liked to wear her Muggle jeans and t-shirts underneath most of the time.

It only required walking a few blocks before they reached the small run-down pub, quickly getting inside for a few moments of respite from the chill. The pub was more crowded than usual. There was still a small late lunch crowd seated sparsely around the room. A few of the patrons looked over at him as he passed, but he was quick to turn his head down. He wasn't in the mood for anyone's excitement over such a huge celebrity sighting.

In the small alley behind the pub, Harry used his wand to tap a specific brick on the wall. Sarah watched again in amazement as the bricks rearranged themselves to form an archway. Stepping through, she found herself in Diagon Alley once more. It had been a very fast trip.

"Here we are," Harry said enthusiastically. He then reached inside of his robes and pulled out a small piece of parchment, which he handed to Sarah. "I made you a bit if a shopping list. There are just a couple things that I'd like to bring with us when we go, so I thought you could pick them up for me, seeing as I'll be lending you money and all. Come on," he said, turning and leading her down the crooked street in the direction of Gringotts.

Sarah stowed the small piece of parchment inside her robes, not bothering to read it yet. She still had an urge to talk Harry out of lending money to her, but she couldn't see a way out of it if he wanted her to pick up a couple things for him. She just hoped he wasn't overly generous.

There was a slightly smaller crowd in Diagon Alley today, due to the chill and light rain. Still, some witches and wizards were bustling about, going from shop to shop for their needs. Sarah examined the street with equal wonder to her first visit, amazed that such an incredible place could exist right under the noses of the entire Muggle London population. It wasn't long before she could see the immense white-marbled bank building looming before them.

When they entered the bank, Harry quickly made his way up to the nearest empty counter. Sarah followed behind him. She was still a little unnerved by the sight of the goblin, but she avoided this particular goblin's ire by keeping herself from gaping at him. When Harry drew up to the counter, Sarah immediately noticed as the goblin's eyes widened. He had seen Harry's scar.

More than aware that the goblin knew who he was, Harry didn't bother to introduce himself or present identification.

"I'd like to make a withdrawal from my vault, please," he said politely. The goblin nodded once at him.

"This way, please," said the goblin, his voice gruff. It took only a moment to retrieve Harry's key, and then they were on their way.

Sarah knew that Gringotts looked huge from the outside, but she hadn't the faintest idea of its massive underground workings. As the goblin took them down into the vaults by cart, she was awed.

"Jeeze!" she yelled to Harry, having difficulty hearing her own voice through the wind whistling in her ears. They were cruising along very quickly. "How deep does this place go?"

The goblin glanced at her, giving her a little glare, but Sarah did not see.

"I'm not even sure," Harry yelled back.

There came a distant, rumbling roar. Gripping the side of the cart tightly with both hands, Sarah looked to Harry with an expression of fear.

"Dragons," he yelled in explanation. Sarah became very pale.

When they finally halted to a stop, she was feeling slightly queasy. The way down had practically been a mini roller coaster ride. The goblin exited the cart. Harry exited next, and Sarah stumbled out after him. It was extremely dark, and the small, brightly-glowing lantern the goblin held aloft was the only source of light. Wrapping her arms around herself, Sarah shivered. It was even chillier down here than it was outside.

The door to the vault before them was enormous, and Sarah looked confused when the goblin only produced a tiny golden key. The goblin approached the vault's door, inserting the tiny key into a series of keyholes. After the key had been turned in each of them, the door's elaborate locking and unlocking mechanisms set to work. It was about a minute before the vault was completely unlocked. When the door swung open, the goblin simply stood aside. Sarah looked to Harry, who drew his wand from inside his robes.

"_Lumos_," he said, pointing his wand into the vault.

When Sarah saw his wandlight dancing off glittering surfaces inside, she mimicked him. Drawing her own wand, she spoke.

"_Lumos_," she repeated. Her wandlight burst forth, blindingly bright at first, but she managed to lower its brightness with a little jerk of her hand. She smiled. She had never before attempted to create this light, and she was satisfied that she managed to do it on her first try.

Harry stepped forward into the vault, still holding his lit wand out in front of him. Sarah followed. When she set eyes upon the enormous piles of gold, she gasped. Harry hadn't been joking when he'd said he had loads of gold.

"How the hell did you get all this?" she asked loudly. She continued shining her wandlight around the room, inspecting every corner. It was literally stuffed with gold.

Harry had already knelt down in front of the nearest pile, and was picking up galleons.

"My parents left some of it for me," he said, "and my godfather left me the rest when he died, remember? That's how I inherited the house, too. Now come here." Harry motioned for Sarah to join him.

Moving over to Harry, she knelt down beside him.

"Just fill a couple pockets," he instructed her, "That should be more than enough to keep you busy all afternoon."

Sarah extended her hand toward the pile of gold in front of her, sifting through it. Many galleons lost their place on the pile, jingling merrily onto the floor. Picking up one of the large golden coins, she examined it.

"This is _gold_, Harry," she said, giving him a bemused look. "Are you sure about this?"

Harry smirked at her.

"For the last time, yes, I'm sure. Now fill up a couple of your pockets before I fill them for you," he replied.

Doing as instructed, Sarah filled two of the inside pockets of her robes with the large golden coins. When she was finished, they both stood and left the vault. The goblin closed the door behind them, re-locking it.

Even though it was extremely cloudy outside, Sarah was glad to be back in the daylight after leaving the bank's underground tunnels. After they descended the steps back onto the street, Harry stopped her.

"Here," he said, reaching inside his robes. Sarah shook her head when he withdrew what appeared to be another gold galleon. He held it out to her.

"I think I've got enough of those already. My pockets are so full I can barely walk," she jested.

"No, no, this is different," Harry explained quickly. Sarah extended a hand toward him, and he placed the large fake galleon in her upturned palm. "This one's a fake, the kind we used to use as communication devices for the DA. I wanted to give you one so you'd know when I was coming back for you."

Sarah turned the fake galleon over in her hand. It looked identical to the real ones she had stuffing her pockets.

"Stick it in pocket," Harry said, "And when you feel it grow hot, meet me back at the Leaky Cauldron. Just be careful not to accidentally try and spend it, that could get you into some trouble."

"Alright," said Sarah, taking the fake coin and sliding it into one of the back pockets of her jeans. "Now what?"

"Now you shop," said Harry, "And I'm off to the Ministry."

"Be careful, Harry," Sarah told him. She would probably be worrying about him all afternoon, and constantly checking to see if her fake coin had warmed up.

"I'll be fine," Harry assured her, giving her a smile. "You just worry about having a fun time here. I'll be back for you later. Don't forget to pick up the things on the list for me."

After thanking him again, Sarah watched as Harry left, hurrying the opposite direction down the crooked street. Taking a deep breath, she looked around. Well, here she was, she thought. Smack in the middle of a magical shopping establishment, loaded with gold, without the faintest clue of what to buy.

Reaching inside her robes, she took out the small piece of parchment Harry had given her when they first arrived. She hadn't bothered to read it immediately, but she thought that it would be best to start with what she knew she _needed_ to buy first. Once she had that out of the way, she could work from there.

Upon unfolding it, she discovered that there were in fact two small pieces of parchment. One of them bore her name, and the other one was labeled _George_. Unfolding the piece which bore her name, she read the note that Harry left her.

_I need a few more Decoy Detonators, and some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. You can find both of these in the joke shop that you visited last time. Ron and Ginny's older brother George runs the place. The other piece of parchment I gave you is a note for him. Give that to him, and he will know that you're a friend of ours. He's really friendly, I'm sure he'll give you a deal._

_Also, don't accidentally wander into Knockturn Alley._

Stuffing the note back inside her robes, she started on her way down the street in the direction she knew the joke shop to be. It wasn't long before she saw the store front emblazoned, _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_. Stopping herself from gazing into the shop's front window, still filled with multitudes of fascinating, eye-catching objects, she opened the door and stepped inside.

A small bell jingled as she shut the door, alerting the shop owner to her presence. Sarah saw as a tall, lanky man with bright red hair and one ear stepped up to greet her. When he saw her, he smiled widely, recognizing her from her previous visit. She'd inspected his wares with much more curiosity than most people did, and that was saying a lot.

"Back again, are we?" he said to her, looking her over. "As I recall, you promised you would return last time you visited. I was beginning to get worried that you weren't coming!"

Sarah smiled back at him, reaching inside her robes for the note that Harry had left her for George.

"Not at all, I've just been busy. Here, this is for you," she said, holding out Harry's note to him.

George took the note from her, giving her a sly smile. Unfolding the parchment, he read it over.

"Well, well!" he said, sounding jovial. "You sure know how to choose the right friends, young lady. Except for Ron, of course. Terrible sort, really. You're much better off being friends with me instead. I'll show you around. An American witch, then?"

George looked Sarah up and down, waggling his eyebrows at her. Sarah blushed faintly. Apparently George was privy to the same rumor that Ron had heard about American girls.

"That's right," she told him.

"Well you certainly have chosen a fine establishment in which to begin your shopping adventure, Miss Garrend. Or may I call you Sarah?" George said, stepping closer to her.

"Sarah's fine," she smiled at him.

"Very well then, Sarah," George said, making a sweeping bow and taking her hand in a gesture of flashy gallantry. "Let us begin on your very own personal tour of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

Sarah spent the next hour or so having a wonderful time as George showed her around the shop, demonstrating the various amusing uses of many of his products. He was extremely funny, and brought her to tears in laughter numerous times. She was sure to pick out the Decoy Detonators and Peruvian Instant Darkness powder on her small shopping list. George was correct in guessing that Harry had instructed her to buy them for him, and insisted that she take them for free. Sarah at first refused, but after much more insisting, as well as explaining how Harry had given he and his late brother their start-up loan for the now booming business, she consented to taking them at no charge.

When Sarah was finished inside George's shop, she was carrying a tiny bag. With the rest of the afternoon ahead of her, she knew that she would probably be completely loaded down by the end of the day.

* * *

Off in another part of London, Harry was nearing the visitor's entrance to the Ministry of Magic. He had needed to Apparate across town to reach where the Ministry was located. In order to be extra safe, he stopped in an alley along the way to put on his cloak. He didn't want anyone to see him anywhere near the Ministry, let alone going in and out of it. Even something as little as that, if it involved Harry Potter, would most likely make the _Prophet_.

After a short walk, he reached the specific unassuming phone booth which he knew to be the visitor's entrance. Completely invisible underneath his cloak, he entered the booth, and quickly dialed 62442 on the telephone's number pad. A high female voice immediately spoke to him out of nowhere.

_"Name and reason for visit?"_ the voice asked.

"Harry Potter," he replied, "Research visit."

The telephone immediately issued him a small visitor's tag, which he quickly snapped up and brought inside his cloak, stowing it inside his robes. The booth rocked a little, and then began descending beneath street level.

Harry soon found himself lowering into the Ministry's reception area, in the Atrium. The booth came to a halt and he opened the door, quickly exiting and getting aside. He saw as a few personnel curiously examined the empty booth. At the security desk nearby, they knew that someone had given the name of Harry Potter and used the visitor's entrance, but the booth was clearly empty. Eavesdropping on their conversation, Harry was relieved to hear that they assumed it had been a prank, and that someone had given the name of Harry Potter and immediately exited the booth before it descended into the Atrium.

He was inside.

Never having been to the floor containing the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Harry had to stop and glance at one of the maps the Ministry kept all around the Atrium to direct visitors. The Ministry was back to its normal appearance. Instead of the hideous "Magic is Might" statue, the Fountain of Magical Brethren had been restored to its former glory, even if it did still smack somewhat of bigotry. Being a Saturday, the Ministry wasn't extremely busy, but there was still a good crowd.

Examining the visitor's map, Harry saw the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes to be located on the third floor. The Atrium was located on floor eight of the underground complex, so he would have to take a ride on one of the many lifts. He quickly made his way over to the lift area. Thankfully, the usually long lines to use the lifts were absent. Only a few witches and wizards were milling about, waiting for lifts to arrive. Harry waited them out, biding his time while he watched a few lifts come and go, taking away the small crowd. Finally, when no one was present, Harry entered the next lift to arrive back at the Atrium level. Not wanting to have to do any more close-quarters dodging, he had wanted the lift all to himself. Hitting the button for his desired destination, the door to the lift slid shut and it clanked into motion, pulling him upward toward level three. As he went, the lift shifted backward and forward at different points, as well as side to side. None of the lift passages seemed to go straight up and down like Muggle lifts did. They seemed somewhat maze-like.

When the lift came to a stop, a disembodied female voice spoke.

"Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes," the voice said.

The lift door opened to reveal two stocky, balding wizards conversing with one another. When they entered, Harry dodged, pressing himself up against the side of the lift. Once they were situated inside, he quickly made his way out just before the lift's door slid shut once again. It only took a few minutes of blind navigation before he found himself inside the Obliviator Headquarters front office.

Harry positioned himself in one of the front corners of the room to watch the goings-on. Many Inter-departmental memos, pale violet paper airplanes, were soaring into the room where they were received by a few witches at some of the reception desks. Every so often, someone would come or go from the department, but not before stopping at what appeared to be time cards on the opposite wall.

After silently watching for quite some time, Harry became encouraged by the lack of activity and set out to explore the department. It took him about an hour to completely comb the place, as he was very cautious to move slowly and silently. There were numerous cubicles toward the front, and many more larger private offices in the back. What interested him most, however, was the large vault-like door in the far back of the department bearing the inscription of _Records Hall_.

Examining the door, he discovered that there were a series of small keyholes, similar to the ones on his Gringotts vault. Where this key could be located, however, or just who might have one, Harry could not imagine.

Knowing that he had found his objective, Harry sat himself down next to the door to wait. He'd found where the records were kept, but now he had to figure out who had access to them. The best way to do this, he thought, was to wait outside the door and see if anyone went in or out. Then, he would be able to find out who this person was, and hopefully find out what time they came to work in the morning by inspecting their time card. Then it was just a matter of finding out which entrance they used to enter and leave the Ministry.

Harry almost fell asleep before anything interesting happened. It was nearly two hours of waiting before he heard someone coming. Standing, he pressed himself flat against the wall and watched as a tall wizard with braided blonde hair approached the vault-like door. He was carrying a small folder, the label of which was hidden under his hand. Harry was thrilled when he saw the wizard produce a tiny silver key which he used to unlock the door, much the same way the Gringotts goblin had unlocked Harry's vault for him. Whoever this person was, he had clearance to access the records kept here.

Positioning himself behind the blonde-haired wizard, Harry watched as he opened the door and stepped inside. Afraid to follow, Harry only dared peek his head in for the moment. The room was huge, and filled with what appeared to be gigantic filing cabinets of some kind. There were rows upon rows, and they seemed to be arranged alphabetically, as some rows were labeled with large letters. Others were numbered. The nature of his alphabetic and numeric ordering was a mystery to Harry, and presented him with another challenge in finding the file that he hoped to exist. If it was even there, he would have to find out what exactly about these files were alphabetized and numbered in order to find it. Taking a deep breath, he hurried forward to the first filing cabinet labeled with a large letter _"A"_. Sliding open the topmost drawer, which was also numbered, he took out the first folder right in the front.

The folder was labeled _"Aaronson, A-1-1, #29672"_. Whipping the folder open, he quickly examined the only piece of parchment inside.

_Obliviation Case Aaronson A-1-1 #29672._

_Subject: Aaronson, Jeffrey._

_Status: Wizard._

_Memory Modifications: None._

_Date of Event: 19 May, 1972._

_Location: 80 Scoresby Street, Blackfriars Road, London._

_Reason: Involved in starting street altercation with Muggles. Two Muggles jinxed, subsequently requiring memory modification. See: Obliviation Cases Cyrano C-12-3 #29673, Walters W-1-4 #29674._

Harry vaguely understood. The files were arranged alphabetically and numerically according to name, and there was a file for every person involved in a particular event, whether they were the cause of it, or the people that had been Obliviated. The letter of the file seemed to indicate which alphabetical row the file was located in. The other two numbers seemed to indicate the specific filing cabinet, and the specific drawer respectively. The case numbers seemed arbitrary. They were probably just numbered chronologically in the order all of these events had occurred. If this was correct, there would hopefully be a file somewhere in here bearing the name of Garrend. It would describe Sarah's childhood incident with the tree. If the status line of the file read _"Status: Witch"_, they would have struck gold.

When Harry heard the blonde-haired wizard's re-approaching footsteps, he quickly put the file away exactly where he had found it and shut the drawer again. There was no way he could attempt to search for anything else without risking being trapped inside. He hurried outside, where the wizard promptly exited the record hall and slammed the large door shut behind him. Harry followed after him as he made his way back out to the front of the office. The wizard made his way over to where the time cards were, and Harry tried to stay very close to him.

"Calling it a day, Ed?" one of the reception witches called to him.

"See you tomorrow, Mary," the blonde-haired wizard said, flicking his wand at his timecard so that it automatically filled itself out with the date and time. He then went to the door.

Moving the time card as little as possible, Harry inspected it. This man's name was Edward Skyvale, and he was thrilled to see that he arrived to the Obliviator Headquarters office every day at eleven in the morning. This would be perfect.

Putting the time card back, Harry hurried after the man named Edward. He was now waiting outside the lift. When the lift arrived, it was empty, and Harry quietly stepped inside with him. He would need to see where this man exited the complex in order to know where he would need to stake out for him to arrive. Harry's heart was beating very quickly; everything was going perfectly. The old excitement of planning something was creeping back into his veins. He always had the best luck.

Unfortunately, his luck ran out for the moment. The lift screeched to a premature halt. It was stuck.

Harry had to bite down very hard on his tongue to keep from swearing aloud.

* * *

Just as she had anticipated, Sarah was now toting along several heavy bags. She had spent the entire afternoon shopping. She hadn't spent anywhere near all of the gold Harry had given her, and she kept hoping that she would feel Harry's signal that he was coming back for her. She really didn't want to be spending all this money. She had bought her own potion-making supplies at the Apothecary, her own cauldron at the cauldron shop, several books at Flourish and Blotts, some more robes from Madam Malkin's, Harry's indicated products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and several other random things she'd found.

Sarah sighed. It was now just about supper time, and Harry still wasn't back for her. Deciding that she had done quite enough shopping for the day, she headed back to The Leaky Cauldron on her own. The pub was more crowded than it had been around lunchtime, but she was able to find her own table at which to sit down. She was glad to put down her heavy bags.

After continuing to wait for a while longer, she grew bored as well as hungry. Her fake coin still hadn't warmed up. She began to worry about Harry. Shouldn't he be back by now?

Little did she know, Harry was currently stuck inside a lift.

She dined on a simple meal of onion soup. A while later, when Harry had still not come, she perused the menu of drinks.

"Elf-made wine," she said quietly to herself. "That sounds good." She had nothing else to do. She _was_ of legal age in the wizarding world, after all. She might as well try it.

Flagging down the barman, Sarah proceeded to drink her way through several wonderful varieties of wizarding alcohol that she never knew to exist.

* * *

It was almost seven when Harry finally made his way to The Leaky Cauldron. It had taken Magical Maintenance quite a while to get the lift going again. After figuring out which exit Edward used, he used his fake galleon to let Sarah know that he was coming. He knew that she would be waiting for him inside the pub.

He had never been to the pub on a Saturday night before. When he entered, the pub was more crowded than he had ever seen it. It was almost loud. Scanning the tables, he quickly located the witch with long brown hair. There were several shopping bags placed on the floor next to her. He quickly hurried over to her.

When Harry reached Sarah's table, his eyes widened when he saw what was on it. There were a couple empty wine glasses, an empty bottle of Butterbeer, and several empty shot glasses.

"Harry!" Sarah said loudly when she saw him. "You've gotta try this firewhiskey stuff, it's great!"

Sarah's eyes had a kind of glazed look. Harry had seen her blushing before, but the blush that she now wore was somehow different. He didn't think he'd ever seen her smiling more widely than she was now. She was clearly drunk. He shook his head in astonishment when he again examined all the empty glasses on her table.

"Sarah," he said, "Did you drink _all this?_"

"Yeah!" she said, smiling. "Want some Butterbeer? I was just about to order some more. It's _sooooooo_ good," Sarah raised her hand to try and flag down Tom again, but Harry grabbed her wrist and forced her arm back down to the table.

"I think you've had quite enough," Harry said, sounding amused. "We've go to get you back."

After making sure Sarah paid her tab correctly, he led her back to the alleyway which they had Apparated into. It was now dark outside, and very chilly, but the slight drizzle from before had stopped. Sarah was pretty unsteady on her feet, and Harry helped her carry her bags.

"Where the hell were you? I waited for so long," Sarah slurred.

"I got stuck inside a lift on my way out," Harry sighed. "That's what kept me."

"Did you find anything out?" Sarah asked.

"Actually yes," Harry said, "I found someone perfect. We'll be able to go in tomorrow. I'll explain in the morning when you're not so... erm...,"

"Drunk?" Sarah laughed.

"Right," Harry said. When they reached the alleyway, it was quite a challenge to lock Sarah's arm in his while holding onto all of her stuff. Somehow, he managed to turn on the spot and Apparate them just outside the school's grounds.

Sarah stumbled all the way up to the castle. Harry had to keep her from falling several times, and ended up carrying all of her heavy bags. He wasn't surprised; Sarah wasn't a very big person, and judging from all the empty glasses he saw on her table, she had drank quite a lot. Having discovered how good elf-made wine was, she jumped headfirst into as much of the pub's drink selection as she could. She had gone fairly overboard.

Instead of heading up to the Headmaster's tower, Harry began leading her back to the Room of Requirement. It would probably be easier to obtain permission to take Sarah into Hogsmeade tomorrow if Professor McGonagall didn't see her sodding drunk from their trip into Diagon Alley. He would go see her alone instead of taking Sarah with him, and claim that she had retired from being worn out from shopping all afternoon.

When they reached the seventh floor corridor, Sarah had to use the wall for support as she paced back and forth in order to make the door to her room appear. Harry helped her inside, placing her bags down on the floor.

"We'll have to leave before lunch tomorrow. Try and get some rest," Harry told her. "I'll come around in the morning to explain everything."

Sarah had been sitting up in bed when Harry left her. He hoped that she would get to sleep as soon as possible. The last thing he needed was for her to be hung over for their adventure into the Ministry tomorrow. She would need to be as clear and alert as possible.

Unfortunately, going to sleep was the last thing on Sarah's clouded mind. She was still buzzing on the alcohol, to say the least. She was very tipsy. With nothing else to do, she unpacked her bags and put her new things away. When she was finished, she sat back down on her bed. Her eyes fell on the small battle of Amortentia.

She didn't bother to pick it up and smell it. Suddenly having a great desire to see Snape, she wanted the real thing. The knowledge that she didn't have a lesson with him in the evening had given her a strange, empty feeling all day. Under the effects of the alcohol, she could admit to herself that she _wanted_ to see him, she _wanted_ to be around him. Last night, the strange little seeds had given her the drive to start something with him, but she doubted that she would have reacted to it any differently if they hadn't been a factor. Even without the seeds or the alcohol, she desired him strongly.

As these thoughts filled her head, she decided to go for a walk. Without even paying attention to where she

was going, she soon found herself standing in front of the door to Snape's office, almost as if she had been drawn to it. Her mind still pleasantly numbed by alcohol, she didn't really register what she was doing when she raised her arm to knock. She was a little shocked when the door opened to reveal the object of her desire.

Snape looked thoroughly confused as he regarded the girl standing outside his door. Even though she had been the one to knock, she looked surprised to see him. Sarah simply stood there and stared at him, and her eyes held a glazed look, similar to the one she'd worn while daydreaming. There was a permanent blush spread across the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks, somehow different from the shy blush that she would normally exhibit around him. Snape cleared his throat loudly. Sarah blinked.

"It is Saturday, Miss Garrend," he spoke to her. "You do not have a lesson this evening."

Even though he would not admit it to himself as Sarah did, he had been filled with a similar feeling of emptiness in knowing that he would not see her again until Monday. Outside of teaching classes and visiting with McGonagall to discuss the girl's progress, he spent all of his time in near complete isolation. He found that he had become used to the girl's presence every evening, and during the day, he would imagine just what he could do to set her off guard in her next lesson. Ever since they had first kissed, he spent a lot of time pondering the girl, as well as himself and his reactions to her.

Knowing that he would not see her again until Monday, he had been filled with a strange sense of dread in thinking that maybe the girl would have forgotten all about their passionate exchange, or perhaps come to her senses about being attracted to a much older, undesirable man. He couldn't have been more wrong.

"I know," Sarah said quietly. Focusing her eyes, she took in Snape's appearance.

He was wearing his black boots as always, but the rest of his outfit was somewhat different than usual. He was wearing black trousers with a black belt, and a loose white collared shirt that he usually wore as an undershirt. Since it was Saturday and he usually spent the weekends completely alone, he hadn't bothered putting on his teaching robes or anything else of significance. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, and Sarah found herself staring at the small section of chest that she could see exposed. She hadn't seen this much of it since she had seen him in his robe that one evening after her first lesson.

During the few moments of silence that passed, Snape noticed her staring.

"Then why have you come, Miss Garrend?" he asked.

Sarah continued staring. In truth, she didn't really know how she ended up here. She simply went for a walk, and her feet seemed to guide her here of their own accord without thinking.

"I think I wanted... to see you," she spoke quietly, still staring.

Snape examined her for several more silent moments. The girl had come here on a Saturday evening simply because she _wanted_ to see him? Most people avoided him like the plague, yet here she was, standing in his doorway, letting her strange but powerful attraction to him lead her actions. What's more, she admitted it. Last night, she had told him that her Amortentia potion smelled just like him. Maybe he hadn't admitted it to himself at the time, but perhaps the reason he had her brew that particular potion was to gain some kind of physical proof of her attraction to him. The fact that she had shared such intimacy with him after such a short time should have been proof enough.

Taking courage from the fact that the girl had practically assaulted him last night, he quickly reached out and grabbed her hips, pulling her very close to him.

"You wanted to see me?" he purred down at her.

Sarah swallowed hard. The alcohol was causing her senses to be overloaded in a similar fashion to the tribulus terrestris seeds. She could immediately feel his heat, and she was once again drowning in his scent. She stared into his chest, fighting the urge to caress it again.

"Yes," she whispered quietly.

Moving his left hand from her hip, he used it to tilt her chin upward, forcing her to look at him.

"And why would you want to see _me_, Miss Garrend?" he purred. "You have no lesson this evening. There couldn't possibly be any reason for you to see me." He led her on. Being a terribly insecure person, he wanted her to once again admit her desire for him. She took the bait.

"I... wanted you," she whispered.

As soon as she said it, Snape leaned down and captured her lips, kissing her deeply. He could immediately taste the firewhiskey on her. He had been about to break the kiss, but found he couldn't when the girl reached up to caress his chest. Placing both hands firmly back on her hips, he pulled her inside the door. Closing it, he pushed her back against it. Removing his hands from her hips, he took her wrists and pinned them above her head to prevent her touching him. He was then able to break the kiss.

"Miss Garrend-," he started, but Sarah quickly pushed forward to recapture his lips before he could speak any more. He obliged her with another deep kiss, but quickly broke it.

"Miss Garrend, you are intoxicated," he told her sternly.

"Can't you call me Sarah, yet?" she complained to him. If she weren't drunk, there was no way in hell that she would be making such gutsy requests of this intimidating man.

"Fine," he said quickly. "You are intoxicated, _Sarah_," he drew her name out, sounding impatient.

She huffed and rolled her eyes.

"I don't care, _Severus,_" she said, mimicking his impatient tone and giving him a little glare.

Not wanting to take advantage of the drunken girl, Snape had been wanting to stop. That was, until, he heard the girl say his name. He hadn't been aware the girl even _knew_ his given name, but he quickly realized that Minerva had said it numerous times in her presence. It sounded tantalizing as it rolled off her tongue, and it sent chills down his spine. Imagining how very good it would sound if she were to say it again, he quickly leaned back into her and continued kissing her deeply, keeping her hands pinned above her head with one hand.

When he pressed his hips firmly into hers, she moaned softly into his mouth. With his other hand, he began gently caressing up her side. As he kept her hands pinned above her, he could feel as the muscles in her wrists began flexing impatiently. Perhaps she wanted to touch him? He let go of her wrists, returning the control of her hands. They immediately went to his chest, groping it. This caused him to press his hips into hers even harder, and to break the kiss in order to bite down on her neck, just beneath her ear. This gave him the reward he was seeking.

"Severus," she whispered into his ear.

He sighed deeply at the sound of her whispering his name, and she trembled at the feel of his hot breath on her neck. Emboldened, he slid his hands up her sides to caress her breasts. As he did this, he felt as her fingers began working at the buttons of his shirt. Pretty soon, it was hanging open, and he could feel her hands on his bare chest. Nibbling at her neck again, he pressed into her even more firmly, certain that she could now feel just how hard he was.

Sarah was pleased with what she revealed as she opened his shirt. His torso was very lean, but he had smoothly and subtly defined muscles. He was mostly hairless, but there was a line of darker hair which started just below his navel and disappeared beneath his trousers. Curious as to where this trail of hair might lead, she slipped her fingers underneath his waistband and began tugging at his belt. Judging from the hard heat he was arduously pressing into her, she had an idea at just what was down there.

When she tugged on his belt, Snape shifted his hips back away from her. He had been caught off guard. She wanted to touch him _there_? _Already_? Knowing that she was drunk and probably had no clue what she was doing, he tried to take a step back from her, only to have her step forward into him with even more force. He took a hold of her wrists again to control what she could touch, and she whined in protest. Pressing her back against the door again, he pinned her hands back above her head. He was too lost in sensation to stop touching her, but he wouldn't have her trying to do anything to him while she was intoxicated.

Alternating which hand he used to hold her wrists in place, he shrugged off his shirt. It fell to the floor. Bringing his free hand to the front of her robes, he began working on opening them. Turnabout, after all, was fair play. He had her robes opened in short measure, but was displeased when he found a tightly form-fitting Muggle t-shirt underneath. He began trying to lift it up, but simply ended up tearing it off in impatience. Through her opened robes, he could now see her black bra and bare stomach. Her stomach was relatively flat, and he immediately began caressing her smooth skin. When he brought his hand up to caress her breast through the fabric of her bra, she moaned softly.

Completely lost in the sight and feel of her almost-bare chest, he had forgotten to keep her hands pinned above her head. He was sharply reminded of this fact when he once again felt her tugging at his belt. Before he could react, she had managed to unbuckle it. Before she could unbutton his trousers as well, he stepped back from her, grabbing her wrists again.

Sarah stared down at the impressive bulge in his trousers, satisfied that she had managed to undo his belt. Even without the aid of the alcohol, this man was driving her to new heights of arousal, and she could plainly see that she was having a similar effect on him.

"Sarah, you are drunk," he told her again, giving her a stern look.

"So?" she complained. "I already told you, I don't care."

"_You_ may not," he said, "But I do. I will not have you... _handling_ me without knowing what you are getting yourself into."

"I think I know what I'm getting myself into," she said, eyes glued to the bulge in his pants.

"I am going to escort you back up to your room," he said, letting go of her wrists and stepping away from her. When he saw the hopeful expression in her eyes, he further clarified. "And I will be leaving you there, and returning to my quarters. Perhaps you will come to your senses when you have sobered up. Speaking of which..."

Sarah watched as Snape disappeared through the door into his private quarters. A few moments later, he returned, holding out a small dark-colored bottle to her.

"This will relieve you of any hangover symptoms you will most certainly be experiencing in the morning," he said.

After taking the bottle from him, she allowed him to mend her shirt, and watched disappointedly as he put his own back on. He also re-buckled his belt.

Sarah was silent the entire way back up to her room. After her door was summoned and opened, Snape could see her in the light that was flooding into the darkened corridor. She looked extremely dejected. He wasn't very good at being an empathetic person, but he could somehow tell that the girl felt like he was rejecting her. He felt a pang of hurt inside his chest similar to the one he had felt before when he frightened the girl, or accidentally caused her physical pain. Now he had managed to cause her emotional pain as well.

Before she could enter her room and escape him, he stopped her forcefully. He took a deep breath. He wasn't exactly good at expressing his feelings either.

"I am not rejecting you, Miss- ... Sarah," he said.

Sarah looked up at him, her expression having brightened a little.

"I merely do not feel it is appropriate for me to take advantage of your intoxicated state," he explained. "I am simply trying to be a gentleman. Our entire... situation... is inappropriate enough to begin with, wouldn't you agree?" he asked.

Sarah blushed and nodded silently. She wasn't even officially a student of the school, but it would still be extremely scandalous if people were to find out about what was going on between them.

"Do not feel that I am rejecting you," he said, stepping even closer to her. "Quite the contrary. Had you been sober...,"

Sarah looked up at him, and saw desire burning in his eyes. He could not complete his sentence. It was difficult for him to keep from grimacing at his own words; it sounded so ridiculous for him to be saying things like this. It was so far removed from the person he normally was. Somehow, this girl had effortlessly brought about another side to him.

"Okay," she whispered to him.

Snape leaned down, placing a chaste kiss on her lips.

"Good night, Sarah," he told her softly. He was satisfied that he had managed to dissuade any feelings of hurt or rejection the girl could have been harboring. For some reason, he was once again filled with a strange feeling of pride at himself.

"Good night, Severus," she replied. It felt strange to say his name, but she found that she liked it. Even if he stopped her from going farther back in his office, she was glad that they seemed to be on a first name basis now. She had grown tired of having him call her Miss Garrend after the impromptu sessions of intimacy that they shared.

After Snape left, Sarah went inside her room and plopped down on her bed. Instead of feeling buzzed from the alcohol, she was now beginning to feel very tired. She placed the small bottle that Snape had given her next to her bottle of Amortentia. She only would lie down to go to sleep after having smelled it once again.

She could barely even remember the reason that she spent all day in Diagon Alley. She was in for a rude awakening when Harry would come knocking in the morning.


	14. The Heist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 14: The Heist.

* * *

Somewhere within the foggy realm that exists between consciousness and dreaming, there was a terrible racket.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

Sarah winced. It sounded like there was a jackhammer working away inside her head.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

She groaned. Every time the racket was made, her head would throb painfully. She barely managed to open her eyes. Everything looked cloudy. She was more tired than she could ever remember being. She was also extremely thirsty.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

She groaned again. Was this part of that crazy new kind of alcohol she had drank, to implant loud phantom noises inside of her mind? Shoving her pillow over her head, she closed her eyes again. Mercifully, the racket seemed to have stopped. She sighed in relief. This relief was short-lived, for she nearly sprang out of bed in surprise when there came an unexpected touch on her arm. Through her clouded vision, she could make out someone with a bespectacled face and untidy black hair standing before her bed. She relaxed.

"Sarah," said Harry, "Are you alright? You look awful."

Sarah rubbed her eyes. When she opened them again to look at Harry, her vision had mostly focused.

"I _feel_ awful," she affirmed.

"I've been knocking for a couple minutes," Harry explained, "I got worried and decided to come in when you didn't answer. You had quite a lot to drink last night."

"I know," Sarah sighed. "Way too much."

Her thirst suddenly became overwhelming. Climbing out of bed, she made her way past Harry into her small bathroom. Facing the sink, she turned on the tap and bowed her head under the faucet, drinking greedily. Concerned, Harry peered around the corner into the bathroom to watch his friend stick her head under the sink.

"Is there anything I can get you?" he called to her. If she were feeling too unwell, he might have to call off their little adventure until next weekend.

When Sarah had enough to drink, she turned off the tap and straightened up, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her robe. Her thirst was temporarily banished. That was one problem solved. The other, a terribly throbbing pain in her head, still remained. She turned and left the bathroom, facing her friend.

"Not unless you can bring me some kind of super magical cure for...," she trailed off mid sentence. As she did, her eyes fell onto her night stand where, next to her small bottle of Amortentia, was a dark-colored bottle of unknown liquid which Snape had given her last night. Eager for any kind of relief, she scrambled over to it. Harry watched her curiously.

Snatching up the bottle, she uncorked it and immediately drank it down. In her haste, she was able to mostly ignore the potion's taste. It couldn't have tasted too good; its scent was reminiscent of rubbing alcohol. As soon as she swallowed, her head seemed to clear, and her vision focused entirely back to normal. The terrible, throbbing pain in her head faded away. Her thirst, which had quickly begun creeping back in the few short moments in which she strayed from the sink, disappeared. She blinked. Apparently there _was_ some kind of super magical cure for bad hangovers.

Harry watched as Sarah drank down the unknown potion. At first he flinched, thinking that she had grabbed the Amortentia, but he saw that it was a different bottle. As soon as she finished drinking, she looked to have entirely regained her composure. She appeared normal now, a far cry from the sorry state in which Harry had first found her.

He furrowed his brows. Last night, as he recalled, he only noticed a single bottle in her room, which he knew to be her Amortentia. Where had this second bottle come from? She only had her own potionmaking supplies as of last night, and she wouldn't have been in any state to brew a potion when she returned to her room. As far as he knew, the Room of Requirement could not simply create consumable things like this. If he were to ask Hermione, he was sure it probably had something to do with Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. Several months previously, this had been the driving force behind the tunnel which formed to the Hog's Head.

Where had she gotten a hangover cure? A few suspicions formed in his mind, the forerunners of which were that she had gone to the hospital wing in the night, or that she had seen Snape sometime between now and when he had left her. He sincerely hoped that the latter was incorrect. He didn't even want to imagine what might have happened if a drunken Sarah stumbled into Snape's arms late at night.

"Sarah," Harry began quietly, "What was that you just drank?"

Sarah held the small bottle out at arm's length, raising it to eye level. She inspected it; it didn't appear that she quite knew what it was, either.

"I'm not really sure," she said. "Severus gave it to me last night, I think he said something about..."

Red light. She did not complete her sentence.

Sarah's eyes widened, and her face immediately colored. She choked. Turning to Harry, she searched his face for his reaction. Not only had she just called Professor Snape by his first name in front of him, but she had accidentally admitted to seeing him last night, too.

Harry's eyes widened as well. _Severus?_ Since when did she call him _Severus_? It had always been Professor Snape, never Severus. Sarah had also just admitted to seeing him last night. He pondered the situation. Had whatever happened last night put the two of them on a first-name basis? He was a little surprised, but he wasn't about to judge her. He watched her silently; when she was comfortable enough, she would speak.

When Harry didn't jump all over what she had said, Sarah set the small empty bottle down on her night stand and spoke again.

"I went to see him last night, after you left," she admitted openly. "I don't really know what I was thinking. I just sort of ended up there."

Harry nodded understandingly, but he wasn't about to ask the next thing on his mind.

"Nothing happened," she said, almost as if she could sense his question. She sat down on her bed. "He knew I was drunk."

Harry smiled.

"It was sort of hard to miss, yeah," he said.

"Well _maybe_ if _someone_ hadn't been so late, I wouldn't have gotten so plastered," Sarah replied. "Now, are you going to tell me what you found out, or what?"

"Yes," said Harry, turning one of the fireplace chairs to face the bed, and sitting down. "And I told you, I got stuck in a lift, it's not like I could help it."

"I know," said Sarah. "I was just giving you a hard time."

"Well," Harry started, "I actually got stuck in the lift with the same bloke I picked out to use for our little sneak-in. His name is Edward Skyvale. He works in the Obliviator Headquarters, and he has a little key that gives him access to the record hall."

"Record hall?"

"Right," said Harry. "While I was looking around, I found the place where they keep everything. I saw him go into it, and I followed him. I took a peek at a file, and it looks like they keep files for everyone involved in an Obliviation incident, whether they're the cause of it, or the people whose memories needed modifying. The ordering system is pretty straightforward. If there is a file in there with your name on it, I should be able to find it fairly quickly."

"What did the file look like?" Sarah asked, eager for more information on what Harry had seen.

"It looked pretty plain," he explained, "And it listed a bunch of stuff out, like the person's name, the date of the thing that happened, and what the Obliviators had to do to them. There's one thing that will be of particular interest to us though."

"What's that?"

"There is a line on the file," he went on, "That identifies whether or not the person is a witch or wizard."

Sarah gasped a little.

"That means...," she started tentatively, "That means, if we find a file for me...,"

"If we find a file for you, and it says 'Witch' on it, we'll know that somebody knew, yes," Harry finished for her.

Sarah stared at Harry blankly. Her pulse quickened. It seemed as if all the answers were sitting just out of her reach. This new exhilaration drove away any fear or apprehension she still had about actually pulling this off.

"When are we going?" she asked Harry, sounding serious.

"Edward gets in every day around eleven, and it looks like he uses the same entrance that we used last time. They haven't changed it yet, it looks as if they're still not letting people Apparate directly in and out," said Harry. He raised his arm, glancing at his starry watch. It was just after nine. They would have to leave relatively soon in order to start staking out. "We'll leave in about an hour."

Sarah took a deep breath, a little nervousness creeping back into her.

"How are we going to do this?" she asked.

"What I'm thinking is," Harry started, "We'll be waiting outside nearby the entrance. When he appears, I'm going to confund him, and then I want you to stun him right away."

"Stun him, too?" Sarah asked. "Isn't that a little overboard? Besides, I don't know if you want _me_ to stun him, I'll probably end up seriously injuring him," she said quietly, still not completely confident in her ability to fully control her power when stunning.

"The longer he's out, the better, honestly," said Harry. "I'll confund him, so once he comes to, he'll be too confused to do anything or get into work. The potion will only last for about an hour, so that should keep him occupied for more than we need."

"And then?"

"And then we'll go right in," said Harry. "You follow right behind me, and if you see anyone coming while I'm snooping around in there, set off a Decoy Detonator. You'll also have the darkness powder, should you need it. That should be more than enough to keep us safe. We'll be in and out. It'll be easy."

Sarah nodded silently, thinking over the details of their plan. Harry would be disguised as someone who has the authorization to be in there, and she would be completely invisible. Aside from having to assault someone, the plan actually didn't sound half bad.

"And Professor McGonagall?" Sarah asked. Harry nodded.

"I've already got permission," he said. "I went to see her last night after bringing you back here. I figured it would be easier to talk her into it if she didn't see that you were piss drunk from going to Diagon Alley."'

Sarah laughed.

"Yeah, that's probably right," she said. "Good thinking. And the others?"

"I've already told them where we're going. Or where we're _supposed_ to be going, at least. They don't seem suspicious," Harry replied.

"Alright," Sarah said, nodding. Everything seemed sound enough. Harry sure knew what he was doing when it came to sneaking around and breaking rules.

Sarah spent the next hour getting dressed and ready while reviewing the details of their plan. Harry assured her that getting inside would be the difficult part. Once in, everything else should fall into place, and the likelihood of anything going awry should be very small. Harry's excitement infected Sarah. When it was almost time to leave, she was pacing around her room nervously, pulse racing. She had never done anything like this before. Before setting out, they made a fast double-check that they had everything they needed. Sarah retrieved the small bottle of Polyjuice potion from within her wardrobe and gave it to Harry, who in turn gave her two Decoy Detonators, his invisibility cloak, and a handful of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder to stow away inside her robes.

When it was nearly ten, and they were completely sure that they were prepared, they left the school's grounds. Harry Apparated them to an unassuming London street where they waited in an alleyway.

* * *

Nearly an hour later, when nothing had happened, Sarah became restless. Both she and Harry were sharing the space under the protective invisibility cloak until Harry could transform, and it was cramped.

Having been so concerned about their little mission, Sarah had neglected to remember that it was very chilly outside. She didn't dress warmly. Arms folded around herself against the cold, she shivered a little. It was another chilly, gray day in London. In the few times that she had been here, Sarah hadn't seen any other kind.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" she asked Harry impatiently.

"Yes, I've been here loads of times," Harry replied. "See those two public toilets across the way? That's one of the secret entrances."

"_What?_ They have you enter the Ministry though a _bathroom?_" clearly this sounded absurd to Sarah, who had been imagining some huge, grand entrance to the world's most powerful magical institution.

"Well they can't exactly roll out a red carpet, can they? All the Muggles would see," said Harry.

"Yeah I guess that's right," Sarah conceded. "Still, that's pretty ridiculous."

"Just wait until you see how you have to get inside," Harry laughed, remembering how he, Ron, and Hermione 'flushed' themselves into the Ministry.

Sarah sighed, looking around at the empty street. Harry noticed her exasperation, and glanced at his watch. It was nearly eleven.

"He should be here soon," he told her.

"You confund or whatever, and then I stun?" Sarah asked again, wanting to be perfectly clear that Harry actually wanted her to try and stun this man.

"That's right," Harry said, "All from underneath the cloak. It wouldn't do for anyone to see who it was, if there's anyone around. Then, you duck back behind that waste bin, and I'll take the cloak out there with me and drag him back here. After that, we'll lock him backstage."

Harry motioned to the door in the alleyway which he had already magically opened. It led backstage into a small, empty theater, and would do very well as a place to temporarily stash their unconscious victim out of sight, just like it had last time.

"If he comes to," Harry continued, "He'll probably too confused to get out until the Confundus Charm wears off. We should have plenty of time."

Sarah nodded her understanding and continued their vigil of the street. Every so often a Muggle would walk or jog by, but other than that, things were quiet and uneventful. That was, until, both she and Harry flinched upon hearing a loud _crack_. Somebody had just Apparated nearby.

Both of them leaned forward, carefully scanning the street for the first sign of movement. Sure enough, only a moment later, they both spotted the tall wizard whose long, blonde hair was worn in a single braid. He was strolling casually toward the public toilet, completely unaware of what was about to happen to him.

Harry slowly raised his wand toward the man, so that his hand stuck out from underneath the cloak.

_"Confundo!"_

Sarah watched as the man flinched and stopped in his tracks, as if he had been hit by some invisible force. He looked around confusedly, and did not move any closer to the toilet entrance. She became so distracted with watching the man's reactions to Harry's spell that she forgot her part. Harry nudged her impatiently.

"Oh!" Sarah gasped. She was supposed to stun him. Raising her wand just like Harry had, she took a deep breath.

_"Stupefy!"_

The force of her spell, once again, had not been entirely focused. She was forced backward, and being unable to steady herself in her awkward crouching position, she fell over and rolled out from underneath the cloak. As soon as this happened she heard movement. She could no longer see Harry, but she knew that he was rushing out into the street.

Quickly bringing herself to her feet, she saw that she had hit her mark. The man that Harry called Edward was now lying unconscious on his back in the street. Hoping that she hadn't hurt him, she watched as the unconscious man's body began moving. His arms raised themselves above his head, and it appeared as if he were gliding across the ground somehow. He drew closer and closer until Sarah could once again hear Harry's footsteps.

The invisible Harry dragged Edward straight past Sarah and directly into the empty theater's backstage area. Sarah followed after. At first, she could not see Harry because he was underneath the cloak, but he soon whipped it off. He tossed it to Sarah, who caught it in her arms and bundled it up, and watched as Harry knelt down beside the unconscious man and set to work. When she saw Harry rummaging around in the man's every pocket, she smirked.

"You didn't tell me we were going to be _robbing_ him, too," she said sarcastically.

"He has things we need," Harry said quickly, still searching through Edward's pockets. As soon as he said this, he located two small Ministry coins within the right jacket pocket. Keeping one for himself, he tossed the other to Sarah. She caught it, regarding it curiously in her palm. "We need that to get inside."

Harry then located the tiny silver key which would allow him access into the records hall. Edward kept it in his breast pocket. As soon as Harry pocketed the key, he drew out his small bottle of Polyjuice potion and carefully plucked a single hair from Edward's head. Uncorking the bottle, he dropped in the hair, waiting for the potion to transform so that he knew it was ready. As he waited, he spoke again.

"This might look really strange," he warned Sarah, "Remember, I'm going to look _identical_ to him, but it's still me. Alright?"

Sarah nodded silently, eyes glued to the small bottle in Harry's hand. She was eager to see what would happen when he drank it and somehow transformed into this man's exact likeness.

After a few moments, the tiny amount of potion swirled and became a vibrant blue. Sucking in a deep breath, Harry tilted his head back. He knew that Polyjuice tended not to taste so good. Wincing, he downed the bottle's contents in one swig.

Sarah watched in horror as Harry's flesh seemed to bubble and distort like hot wax. Within a matter of seconds, his entire being had transformed. As Harry adjusted himself to his awkward new body, Sarah looked from the unconscious Edward, to Harry, and back again. They looked exactly alike. No longer having terrible eyesight, Harry removed his glasses and handed them out to Sarah.

"Here, hold these for me," he told her.

Sarah looked apprehensive as she took the glasses from him, stuffing them into one of the inside pockets of her robe.

"It's me, remember?" said Harry.

"I know," Sarah said quietly, "It's just... _weird_."

"I know it is," Harry told her, remembering how he hadn't been able to fully adjust when Hermione took on the likeness of the hated Bellatrix Lestrange. "Now come on, we haven't got any time to waste."

Both of them hurried back out into the alleyway. Harry slammed the rusty lock back onto the theater's door, and Sarah draped herself in the invisibility cloak.

"Just follow me, stay close," Harry said quietly, peering out of they alleyway into the street. Everything looked clear. He then began casually strolling toward the entrance to the public toilets, just as Edward had been doing before being attacked.

"When you get into the women's toilet, put that little coin into one of the doors. Then you'll have to stand in the toilet and flush it to get inside," Harry said quietly.

"_What?_" Sarah spat loudly. Harry quickly shushed her and glanced around frantically.

"You're supposed to be invisible, remember?" he whispered loudly. "No noises like that, you'll give yourself away! Just do what I told you. You won't get wet or anything, I promise. Once we're inside, I'll wait for you to give me some kind of signal before going on. Just stay really close to me."

They parted ways at the entrance to the toilets. Sarah watched as Harry disappeared down the stairs into the men's entrance, and sure enough she heard a toilet flushing only moments later. This was ridiculous, she thought. She wondered if someone had come up with this idea for an entrance to the Ministry as some kind of joke which had then been accepted as a real idea. Entering the women's toilets, Sarah looked around. Everything appeared normal enough. Following Harry's instruction, she inserted the small coin embossed with 'MoM' into a small slot on one of the doors. Opening the door, she stepped inside the stall and faced the toilet.

As she regarded the toilet, she shook her head. This had to be the most ridiculous thing she'd ever done. Sighing softly, she stepped up into the toilet bowl. Expecting to get her feet wet, she was surprised when she didn't feel any water at all. Harry had been right. Without hesitating, she reached forward and flushed.

She wasn't really sure what happened next, except that she now found herself in a completely different place. She didn't know it, but she was now in the Atrium of the Ministry. Walls everywhere were lined with fireplaces, and occasionally a witch or wizard would appear from within one, or disappear into another. The floors were a dark, polished stone, and just ahead she could hear a faint rushing of water from a fountain. Very taken in by the sights, it took her a moment to notice Harry standing there, as Edward Skyvale, looking around nervously. He was waiting for her to give her some kind of sign that she made it inside. Sarah quickly walked over to where he stood, taking a hold of his right hand and giving it a squeeze.

Harry gave no outward recognition of her sign except for a curt nod. Now that he was sure that Sarah was with him, he strode off in the direction of the lift area. Sarah hurried along behind him, but wasn't really watching where they were going. She was too absorbed with trying to take everything in. She could now see the Fountain of Magical Brethren, and due to her experiences thus far in the magical world, she was able to identify each of its occupants. There was a witch, a wizard, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf. Water spouted from different points of the statuary, filling the Atrium with the hiss of running water.

Turning away from the fountain, she kept a closer eye on Harry. The Ministry was only sparsely crowded, and Sarah guessed correctly that this was because it was a Sunday. Anyone they happened to pass did not so much as give Harry a second glance. He was thankful for this. Anyone who stopped to observe them closely would have heard the phantom second set of footsteps trailing his.

The lift area was empty when they reached it. When the next lift arrived, Harry first looked inside to see that it was empty. Before he would hit the button to guide the lift on to level three, he waited for Sarah to give his hand another squeeze. It would be disastrous if they were to get separated like that. If she were to get carelessly lost, she couldn't be seen, and Harry would have no way of knowing. Completely sure that she was there, he hit the button for level three. The lift's golden grilles slid closed noisily, and Sarah steadied herself as the lift jerked and began moving.

After a few moments, the lift stopped prematurely on level five. The disembodied female voice spoke.

"Department of International Magical Cooperation," the voice said.

Sarah began shuffling, as if she were going to exit the lift. In a panic, Harry's arms shot out and caught hold of her shoulders. Just before the door to the lift opened, he shuffled her into the back corner of the lift, where he shielded her invisible form with his own visible body. No one would find her there. Harry pretended to look as nonchalant as possible.

Shortly after the doors to the lift opened, another wizard entered. He was shorter than Harry was in Edward's form, with short brown hair, light brown eyes, and a friendly boyish-looking face. Upon seeing Harry, the new wizard smiled and nodded, and Harry returned the gesture as best he could.

"Good morning, Ed," said the brown-haired wizard, situating himself as the lift's doors clanged shut once again.

"Good morning," Harry replied. The lift jerked into motion once more.

Thankfully, the new wizard said no more, and left Harry to his silence. He couldn't even begin to try and tell Sarah, but the fact that someone from this level recognized the man known as Edward was a great sign. The Department of International Magical Cooperation would definitely have something to do with Obliviations taking place in every corner of the world when records needed to be kept of each incident.

Sarah was extremely uncomfortable. Harry had her pinned into the corner of the lift, and she was pressing against his back. She knew that it was indeed Harry in that disguise, but it still felt extremely unsettling to be this close to a stranger. Thinking them to be alone in the lift, she had been about to complain when she saw the other wizard climb inside with them. She remained as silent as possible. When the lift came to a stop again, she heard the same disembodied female voice speak again.

"Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes," the voice said.

Sarah nearly sighed in relief when Harry stopped pinning her into the corner. As soon as the lift's door opened, Harry quickly stepped outside. Sarah grabbed a hold of the back of his shirt and followed after. The contact would let Harry be sure that she had indeed exited the lift with him instead of being left behind.

This level, Sarah saw, was even emptier than the Atrium. The hallway even appeared to be half-lit, giving the feeling that nobody was even there. Harry casually strolled toward the Obliviator Headquarters, and Sarah followed after him. The office, unlike the hall, was fully lit even though it was mostly empty. The same reception witches that Harry had seen yesterday were sitting at the front desks answering Inter-departmental memos. When Harry stepped inside, the witch sitting on the right looked up at him and gave him a bright smile.

"Good morning, Ed," she said.

The reception witch who had addressed him was fairly short in stature, with curly brown hair and long red fingernails. Recalling her name from yesterday, Harry was able to respond.

"Good morning, Mary," he replied.

This is where Harry made his first mistake. Instead of going to fill out his time card, as was routine, he simply strode on past the reception witches, still trying his best to be nonchalant. Mary knew that Edward always filled out his time card before going back into his office. Shrugging it off, she continued on with her work as Edward passed. He usually came into work every day, but maybe today he was only stopping by to drop something off or pick something up.

Sarah followed after Harry as he moved past the reception desks. She could have sworn that the witch with the curly brown hair and red painted fingernails had given Harry a strange look, but it had faded away as soon as it had appeared. The disguise was flawless, Sarah thought. There was no way anyone could possibly be able to tell that Harry Potter was currently masquerading as a Ministry employee.

Harry made a straight line to the back of the office where he again encountered the massive vault-like door bearing the inscription of _Records Hall_. Confidently producing his tiny silver key from inside one of his pockets, he proceeded to work at the series of small keyholes. Something was strange, however. Harry knew that he had seen Edward unlock the door in just this way, but now it seemed as if the tiny silver key didn't fit at all.

Sarah could tell something was wrong. Several minutes later, Harry was still trying to jam the small silver key into the keyholes, but nothing was happening. The key would not turn, and the door was not unlocking. Harry swore under his breath. Every detail of his plan had seemed perfect, and now the tiny silver key was not working. It was the same key, Harry knew. Edward had used this very same key, only a day previously. Why wasn't it working now? He had to find out, and fast. The hour of his Polyjuice transformation was quickly ticking away.

Key in hand, Harry strode back up to where the reception witches sat. Approaching the witch named Mary, he held out his key to her. After seeing the key, she looked up at him, appearing confused.

"Mary," Harry said, trying to sound extremely casual, "My key doesn't seem to be working."

Before Harry had even said anything, Sarah knew that this was an extremely bad idea. As soon as Harry told the reception witch about his key not working, she looked extremely confused. Sarah watched as the witch looked to the small silver key, and then back up to Harry. She then leaned in close to Harry and spoke quietly.

"Ed, that's your silver key," Mary said quietly, glancing around to be sure the other reception witch wouldn't overhear. "Silver is Saturday, Ed. You know that."

Harry's eyes widened. The silver key only worked on Saturday? That must mean there was another key which would work today, but where this key could be, Harry didn't have a clue. He hadn't found any other keys while searching Edward's unconscious person. Harry remained silent, still regarding the witch curiously and hoping that she would expound on the fact that his silver key wasn't working. Unfortunately, she too remained silent, regarding him with an equally curious expression.

"Oh, that's right!" Harry said at last, trying to sound surprised at himself. "Silly me, I lost track of the time and thought it was Saturday again. Thanks, Mary."

Harry quickly retreated to the back of the office again, and Sarah followed after him.

Mary watched Edward's retreating form. He would have known that it was Sunday if he had only stopped to fill out his time card, she thought. But he hadn't. The Edward Skyvale that she knew was meticulous about his work. Something was off. Edward had seemed confused when she told him that his silver key didn't work today because it wasn't Saturday. Something was definitely off, but she didn't know what. Perhaps someone had confunded him as a bad prank? Whatever it was, she wanted to find out. Standing, she moved to exit the office.

"Taking an early lunch, Liz," she called to the other reception witch. "I'll be back soon."

* * *

In the back of the office, at the door to the record hall, Harry was cursing himself. In his planning, he hadn't bothered to found out where Edward's office was in the unlikely event that he needed to get something from it. That unlikely event was now a reality. Since the real Edward didn't have any other keys on his possession before entering the Ministry, Harry knew that they were most likely somewhere around here, and the best bet for that would be his office. There was some other key which would open the door, and Harry needed to find it as fast as possible.

"Find this guy's office," he whispered loudly so that Sarah would hear him. "Come get me if you find it. Hurry."

They split up. Sarah darted through the office, inspecting doors and cubicles, looking for anything which bore the name of Edward Skyvale. The office was mostly empty, which afforded Sarah more leeway in making noise or having the cloak revealing her feet and ankles as she rushed along. After several minutes of frenzied searching, she finally came to a door with a plaque bearing Edward's name. Sprinting back down the hall to where she had left Harry, she found him searching through cubicles.

Harry gasped when the invisible Sarah seized his arm roughly.

"This way!" she whispered loudly, tugging him in the direction she had come from. Harry allowed himself to be pulled the entire way there.

Some distance down the hall, Sarah stopped him. He was now facing a door with a golden plaque which read,

_Edward Skyvale, Chief Archivist_

_Chief Archivist?_ Harry thought to himself. _I sure know how to pick them._

He immediately went for the handle, but it was locked. He whipped out his wand.

_"Alohomora!"_

There was a faint clicking, and Harry could now turn the handle and push open the door.

_"Lumos!_

He illuminated his wand as he stepped into the darkened office, shining it into every corner. Sarah mimicked him from underneath the cloak.

"Keys," Harry said, "Look for keys!"

The two of them proceeded to quite literally tear apart Edward's office. Time was of the essence, and Harry, in his stupidity, knew that he had probably already tipped off the reception witch to the fact that something was going on. Throwing caution to the wind, he tore through Edward's office as fast as possible in search of anything that resembled a key.

After several minutes of searching, Sarah came across keys in one of Edward's desk drawers that she had managed to unlock by mimicking the spell she had seen Harry use. Well, she hadn't so much as unlocked it as she had damaged the lock so badly to the point where it would no longer function. Regardless, the drawer was open, and six metallic keys were glittering up at her from under her wandlight.

"Harry, here!" she whispered loudly, motioning him over. By this point she had forgotten that she was invisible.

Harry rushed over to the open drawer, knocking Sarah aside. He had also forgotten that she was invisible.

"Sorry," he said quickly, "I forgot you were there."

There were six keys, seven in all, including the silver one that Harry had in his possession. One for each day of the week, he assumed. Somehow, for extra security, the locks on the door to the record hall must magically change themselves on a daily basis. Only those people who worked closely with the records would know which key unlocked the door on which day.

Harry examined the keys. They were lined up in a neat little row, but there was a blank spot. This was where the silver key must go, he knew. Next to it, to the right of the blank spot, there was a small golden key. If silver was Saturday, then gold might be Sunday. Placing the silver key back in its place, Harry picked up the golden key and stood, leaving the drawer open. If this key didn't work, he would have to come back for the others.

Harry walked quickly back to the large vault-like door. Whispering a silent prayer, he brought the small golden key up to the keyholes. Harry sighed in relief when the key easily slid into the first hole he tried. He was able to turn it, and he heard a faint clicking noise. He quickly repeated this with each of they keyholes, and soon he was able to slowly and carefully open the massive door.

The records hall was pitch black; for some reason, it was not lit like it had been yesterday when the real Edward had gone inside. Illuminating his wand again, Harry stepped inside.

"Keep watch at the door," he whispered loudly to Sarah. "Shout to me if something happens. Don't hesitate to use what you've got if you think something is going wrong."

Sarah didn't have any time to tell Harry that she heard him before he rushed off into the darkened hall. Double-checking that the cloak was concealing her completely, she stood against the frame of the massive vault-like door, staring out into the office. She still held her wand in her right hand, and with her left, she felt around in her robe's pockets. She had the Decoy Detonators, and she had the darkness powder. If she became frightened that they were about to be caught, she would do as Harry instructed her, and not hesitate to use anything.

As she stood guard, the reality of what they were doing became apparent to her. They had just quite literally broken into this place. They weren't supposed to be here, and she knew that they could probably get into some major trouble if they were caught. To top that all off, they had just assaulted a Ministry employee outside and locked him inside an empty theater. Previously, her constant movement had kept her mind off of everything, but now that she was standing perfectly still, she felt nervous. She found that her teeth were chattering a little, and that she could barely keep herself from fidgeting with nerves. She greatly hoped that Harry would be as fast as possible. She had wanted nothing more than to come here and find whatever they could find, but now all she wanted was to get out.

Harry was sprinting through the records hall as fast as he could. He sped past rows and rows of the huge filing cabinets, scanning their letters and numbers with his eyes. He needed to find the cabinets which were labeled 'G'. After a few moments of running, he found the first cabinets in the 'G' row, and immediately dove into them. The name 'Garrend', he knew, would be pretty high up on the alphabetical ladder, but it would still take some careful guesswork to find the exact filing cabinet, and then the exact drawer. He set to work, knowing that he should have more than enough time. Unfortunately, he didn't have nearly enough time as he thought.

Back outside, Sarah froze in terror as she saw three people advancing down the hall toward where she stood. One of them was the curly-haired reception witch, she knew, but the other two people she did not recognize. They were both wizards wearing the same kind of uniform, and she became alarmed when she saw that both of them were holding their wands aloft in their hands. She became paralyzed by fear as they drew closer and closer to where she stood. Although they did not know it themselves, their wands were pointing directly at her.

_Harry!_ Her mind screamed at her. _Warn Harry!_

Sarah gasped audibly, but the approaching wizards did not hear. Ducking back into the records hall, she shouted out into the darkness.

"Harry!"

Her yell echoed. She had no way of knowing where exactly Harry was in the sea of filing cabinets, but he couldn't have missed that.

He didn't.

Further inside, Harry was whipping open drawers as fast as he could. His guesswork had quickly located the cabinet in which Sarah's file should be located, and now he was just trying to find which drawer it would be inside. When he heard Sarah's shout, he knew his time was just about up. Either Sarah was over-reacting to a false alarm, or their cover had been blown and someone knew that something was up. Having no way of knowing, he rushed on, pulling open drawers.

Back at the doorway, Sarah had just taken a Decoy Detonator out of her robes and activated it, crouching to the floor and setting it down. She watched in amazement as it scurried off across the floor of its own accord, straight through the legs of the advancing group, and into a row of cubicles beside them. There it must have exploded, because there was a loud bang, and Sarah saw as it began snowing paper fragments. The tiny device had done its job, and the uniformed wizards immediately turned off course and rushed over in the direction of the explosion. Sarah gave a tiny sigh of relief; that would buy them a few extra moments. Nervously, she glanced back into the records hall. It was still pitch black, and she had no idea where Harry could be. She just hoped that he was hurrying, or done. They needed to get out, and fast.

As Harry heard what he knew to be an explosion from one of Sarah's Decoy Detonators, he was crouched over the first filing cabinet in the 'G' row, his fingers dancing across the tabs of the files in the second drawer from the top. He knew he was only inches away from where the name 'Garrend' should be, but a sense of dread filled him when he saw that the back of the cabinet seemed to be empty. Every drawer he had examined so far had been completely stuffed with files. There was absolutely no empty space anywhere, as far as he could tell. This drawer, however, had an empty space toward the back. Assuming the worst, Harry thought that the names would stop or end alphabetically before he reached where 'Garrend' should be.

A shot of adrenaline rushed through him when he saw that he was wrong.

Back outside, the wizards had already emerged from the exploded cubicles and were quickly advancing on the door to the record hall, which they could clearly see was ajar. Sarah let the second Decoy Detonator go, pointing it in a different direction than the first. It obediently scurried off into a second group of cubicles where it exploded with another loud bang, again distracting the attentions of the uniformed wizards for a few scarce moments. Her heart was now beating in her throat. If they got any closer this time, she would have to use the darkness powder. If that failed, she would have to try and stun them.

_Hurry, Harry, Hurry!_ she screamed inside her head.

Just before Sarah's second decoy exploded, Harry had just extracted two file folders bearing the name _Garrend_. He felt elated. As he looked back up into the drawer, however, he could see that there was something else there. There was another file straight in the back that he hadn't seen. What was it doing all the way back there, behind all that blank space? He began reaching for it. Out of this file there appeared to be sticking an awkwardly over-sized strip of paper. Just before he could reach it, he flinched when he heard the second explosion. Harry knew Sarah was now out of Decoy Detonators, and if the darkness powder should fail, it would probably come to blows with whoever she was trying to throw off course. He had to get to her. Putting the file at the back of the drawer out of his mind resolutely, he slammed the drawer shut and sprinted back in the direction of the vault-like door.

He came to the door just as the wizards were emerging from the second group of exploded cubicles. Careful not to expose himself, he ducked behind the door just out of sight. He knew that Sarah could see whatever approaching threat was out there, but he could not. All he knew was that they needed to get out.

"The darkness powder," he whispered loudly. "Throw it down ahead of you and run straight out. You won't be able to see, just run straight out!"

Sarah reached inside her robes pocket and filled her hand with the inky black powder. She tossed it several feet in front of her, and her world instantly vanished in a puff of darkness. She could see nothing. Taking a deep breath, she summoned her courage and did as Harry told her to, running in a straight line through the utter blackness. Harry, who had taken a hold of her shoulder, was right behind her. She was able to successfully lead them out of the darkness. When they could see again, they were near the reception desks, which were now empty. Turning to look behind them, they could see a screen of complete darkness, and nothing else. They could hear random shouts issuing from within it, but could not make out what they were saying.

"Come on!" Harry said, tugging on Sarah's invisible shoulder. Together, they both darted outside of the office.

Once they were back inside the half-lit hallway, they ran in the direction of the lift. Sarah could see that Harry was holding something. He had found something, but it wasn't as if they could stop to read it right here. Harry stopped running, and Sarah skidded to a halt alongside him.

"Let me under!" he said, and Sarah lifted the side of the cloak to allow Edward's tall form to crouch down into it. They had to scramble along awkwardly now, as it was almost impossible to keep both of them hidden underneath it. When they reached the lifts, there was already an empty lift waiting for them, probably the same one that they had used to come up from the Atrium. Once they were inside, Harry reached out to push the button to take them back to the Atrium, but the lift jerked into motion before he could.

"Hide!" he whispered, crouching down with Sarah in the corner of the lift. They were both now huddled together as close as they could be, the cloak completely covering them. The lift dragged them upwards.

When it came to a stop, the disembodied female voice spoke.

"Department of Magical Law Enforcement," the voice said.

The lift's doors slid open, and three tall, tough-looking wizards shuffled inside. They looked as if they were in a hurry. They were none the wiser that Harry and Sarah were concealed in the corner of the lift. As soon as they had entered, one of the wizards slammed a lift button, and it immediately jerked into motion again, dragging them back downward.

"Where are we going again?" one of the wizards asked impatiently.

"Some kind of disturbance in the Obliviator Headquarters," another explained.

When the lift stopped again, they were back on level three.

"Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes," the disembodied female voice spoke.

When the lift's doors opened, all three wizards rushed out, not looking back. As soon as they had, Harry quickly lunged forward and hit the button to take them back to level eight, where the Atrium was. He didn't want the lift being called into service again for someone else before they reached their destination. Every moment that their escape was delayed, their situation became more and more dangerous. The lift jerked into motion again, dragging them down to the Atrium. The entire way down, the pair remained silent, both of them praying that the lift would not stop. Mercifully, it didn't.

When the doors opened again, both of them scrambled out of the lift, still crouching awkwardly underneath the invisibility cloak. The Atrium was still mostly empty. Harry had been half expecting to see squads of Death Eaters sealing off the exits, but everything looked normal. Together, they made their way back to the same entrance they had used, and they quickly found themselves back out on the unassuming London street. Taking Sarah's arm tightly in his, Harry immediately turned on the spot, pulling both of them into nothingness.

* * *

When they reappeared, both of them were unsteady on their feet. The Apparition had been sudden, and Sarah hadn't been completely ready for it. Harry was also still uncomfortable in his assumed body. Upon appearing, both of them toppled over onto the ground. Harry had brought them back just outside the school's perimeter, on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry stood up, dusting himself off, and held out his hand to Sarah. After completely pulling the cloak off of herself, she took his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet, but she had a wary expression on her face.

"You're still Harry, right?" she asked.

"Of course I am," Harry replied.

Sarah smiled a little.

"I know you are, it's still weird though," she explained.

Harry glanced at his watch; it was only twenty till noon. They still had a bit of time before his Polyjuice would wear off.

"Well, we can't go up just yet," he said. "We have to wait until I turn back."

"Alright," said Sarah. "Harry, what did you find?" she asked, examining what Harry was holding. Now that they were safely out of the Ministry, she wanted to know what it was right away.

"Oh," said Harry, holding up the folders. In all the excitement, he nearly forgot that he had them in the first place. "Here," he said, holding them out to her. "Why don't you take the first look."

Sarah took the folders from him, looking confused.

"Why are there two?" she asked.

"I don't know," Harry said, "I just grabbed what said 'Garrend' on it. There's probably a record for someone else named Garrend too. I haven't looked at them at all. You take a look."

Sarah nodded and sat herself down on the ground with her legs crossed. She rested the folders in her lap, looking studious. One of these, she hoped, would be her. Harry sat down in front of her and watched. Opening the top folder, labeled _Garrend, G-1-3, #32278_, she examined the file inside.

_Obliviation Case Garrend G-1-3 #32278._

_Subject: Garrend, Bruce._

_Status: Muggle._

_Memory Modifications: Obliviated._

_Date of Event: November 6, 1981._

_Location: 12 Archer Crescent, Spelthorne, Surrey._

_Reason: Accidentally witnessed the creation of a Patronus Charm, source of which unknown. Wife also Obliviated. See: Obliviation Case Garrend G-1-3 #32279._

"Oh no," Sarah said quietly as she looked over the words, filling up with a sense of dread. This wasn't anything having to do with her, and if the file was correct, she suspected that the second folder contained the file for this person's wife. Sure enough, opening the second fold, she found that it did.

_Obliviation Case Garrend G-1-3 #32279._

_Subject: Garrend, Joanne._

_Status: Muggle._

_Memory Modifications: Obliviated._

_Date of Event: November 6, 1981._

_Location: 12 Archer Crescent, Spelthorne, Surrey._

_Reason: Accidentally witnessed the creation of a Patronus Charm, source of which unknown. Husband also Obliviated. See: Obliviation Case Garrend G-1-3 #32278._

Sarah sighed deeply and closed the folders, tossing them unceremoniously back at Harry. As soon as they were out of her hands, she flopped onto her back in the grass, staring straight up at the chilly, gray sky.

"What is it?" Harry inquired, neatly rearranging the folders from Sarah's toss. "What's wrong?"

"Just take a look at them," Sarah said, her voice full of disappointment. "They've got nothing to do with me. They're for two Muggles who live in Surrey. We went in there for nothing. There isn't anything about me."

Harry quickly flipped open the folders and examined the files inside. She was right; they were files for two Muggles in Surrey who had apparently witnessed the creation of an unknown Patronus.

"Damn it," Harry said loudly, slamming down the folders in the grass. That had been a giant bust. All that effort for nothing.

"We'll never find out," said Sarah flatly, still staring up at the sky.

"It's all my fault," Harry said, resting his head in his palms. "There could have been more Garrends at the front of the drawer underneath, but I panicked when I heard your Decoy Detonators going off. These were the last files in drawer three. Or maybe...," _Maybe that weird-looking file at the back of drawer three, the one I didn't have time to look at, also has Garrend written on it,_ he thought to himself. He did not voice that aloud. It wasn't as if they could go back right away, and getting inside a second time would be even more difficult after having created such a ruckus. He might never know what that other file was, if anything, or if there were more Garrends in drawer four.

"Or maybe what?" Sarah pressed.

"Nothing," Harry sighed. "It's all my fault."

"It's not your fault, Harry," Sarah said, sitting up. "I wanted to go too. At least we know we can stop looking now."

Harry didn't say anything. He definitely wasn't in the mood to stop looking, but he didn't see any avenues on which to continue their search for the moment.

About fifteen minutes later, Harry's transformation wore off. After getting his glasses back from Sarah, they both headed back up to the castle.

Sarah felt just about as dreary as the colorless gray sky above.


	15. Making Headlines

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 15: Making Headlines.

* * *

Sarah's mood didn't improve any over the course of the rest of the day. She spent most of it lying on her bed, staring up at the stone ceiling. She felt complete and utter disappointment. Only this morning, she had been excited, and felt like all the answers she had been looking for were right at her fingertips. Everything felt as if it had been right in her grasp. She was finally going to find out _why_. Failing that, she would at least find out _something_. She and Harry had planned carefully, and they had even pulled it off successfully. What they came out with, however, were a pair of useless files on a couple of Muggles somewhere in Surrey who had accidentally seen something they weren't supposed to. It felt as if she had been running along a hallway, with the answers at the end; before she reached it, she slammed into an impervious brick wall.

What a waste of time and effort. It had nearly gone awry, too. She didn't even want to think about what might have happened if the Decoy Detonators and darkness powder hadn't been enough to get them out of that mess. Someone definitely knew that something was going on, and they came very close to being caught. They had gotten away clean, but with nothing to show for it. Sarah resigned herself to the fact that she would never know exactly how or why she had been kept from the magical world. She would just have to come to terms with the fact that, for whatever reason, most of her life had been miserable and she was just now learning that she was years behind on the education she _should_ have been getting all along.

Lying on her back in bed, she sighed deeply. She couldn't remember ever feeling this flat-out disappointed. Turning over onto her side, she was now facing her night stand. Sitting next to her small bottle of Amortentia were the two files that she and Harry had taken from the Ministry. Harry had instructed her to keep them somewhere in her room so they wouldn't be anywhere that Ron (and by extension, Hermione or Ginny) might happen upon them.

They were completely useless to her, but that hadn't stopped her from examining them time and time again and wistfully wondering what the file might look like if it had read _"Garrend, Sarah"_ instead of _"Garrend, Bruce"_ or _"Garrend, Joanne"._ What might the file look like? What would it say? What mysteries would it explain? She thought she had only been inches away from discovering these things. Unfortunately, she had been wrong. In short order, she had both of the files completely memorized for absolutely no reason aside from a bad mix of boredom and disappointment.

To cap it all off, it was Sunday, and that meant she didn't have a lesson to look forward to in the evening. Part of her wanted to see Snape again, but another part of her was horribly embarrassed at having drunkenly wandered into his embraces the previous night. She probably made a complete fool of herself. What must he think of her? She couldn't deny that she _did_ want to see him, but she knew that working up the courage to seek him out would probably require a great deal more alcohol, and she wasn't much feeling up to having another terrible hangover. She didn't have any of that wonderful little potion left.

_It isn't like Monday is far off,_ she thought to herself. She sighed. _Who am I kidding?_ With the day's disappointing events, time seemed to be crawling by, and tomorrow evening felt an eternity away. Somehow, she had managed to slow time down before.

If only she could now manage to speed it up.

* * *

Sarah did not leave her room for the rest of the afternoon, except to eat. All through supper, her mood was still grim, and Harry's wasn't much better. Their meal was relatively subdued, and no one talked much at all. Sarah poked halfheartedly at her food, and Harry would shoot her a concerned glance every so often. He was almost as disappointed as she was. He was used to all of his little risky undertakings being very successful, save for maybe the Godric's Hollow disaster. Other than that, he always seemed to have perfect luck, or seemed to get just what he was after. This time, he hadn't.

Despite this, he felt that he _could_ have. The strange-looking file in the back of the drawer haunted his mind. Perhaps it had been another Garrend. Perhaps it had been Sarah's file, the file that they were looking for. In his haste due to the deteriorating conditions outside of the records hall, he hadn't gone for it. If only he had reached back a little further. Things might be different. If he had, maybe Sarah would not look as if she had just suffered a dementor's kiss.

Harry kept waiting on tenterhooks for Ron, Hermione, or Ginny to speak up and say something about Sarah's evident state of depression, but Ron seemed as absorbed as ever in his food, and Hermione appeared very occupied with her issue of _The Evening Prophet_.

Thankfully, Harry avoided the awkwardness of having someone say something, and Sarah retired from the table to go back up to her room long before the rest of them had even finished eating.

Soon after, the rest of them were headed back up to Gryffindor tower. Ginny and Ron, talking animatedly about something Quidditch-related, stepped through the portrait hole in front of Harry and Hermione. Eager to pursue their conversation, Harry was just about to step in after them when he was stopped. Hermione shot her arm out in front of him like a blockade, and the portrait hole swung closed before he could enter.

"Hey, what was that for?" he exclaimed, stepping back from her arm. She shot him a dour look and slammed something papery into his chest. She crossed her arms after he took it from her.

Harry looked down at what Hermione had given him, and then looked back up at her again. She was still glaring. Apparently, whatever he had done was supposed to be self-explanatory. He unfolded the paper.

"_The Evening Prophet_?" he asked, laying eyes on the top of the front page. "What's this for?"

Hermione sighed.

"Read it," she said, her tone slightly annoyed.

Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion. Looking back down at the _Prophet_, he read the front page. The headline jumped out at him in large, bold lettering.

_**MINISTRY SECURITY COMPROMISED**_

_Earlier today, shortly before the hour of noon, Ministry officials report that security within the Ministry of Magic was briefly compromised. The disturbance occurred within the Obliviator Headquarters, where it is believed that one or more persons may have gained access to the records hall which contains detailed information about every Ministry-ordered Obliviation or Memory Modification since the department's inception. The break-in appears to have been done by means of an impostor._

_"I don't know what happened to me," says the Obliviation Headquarters' Chief Archivist, Edward Skyvale. It was first reported that Edward himself was the cause of this strange security breach, but he was later found outside the Ministry without any recollection of the events whatsoever. "I was on my way into work, just like every morning, and just before I got there, I started feeling funny. Then I must have blacked out. When I came to, there were Aurors everywhere, and as soon as I came out of where I ended up, they swarmed me. Said I was the one they were looking for, oddly enough." Skyvale has been interrogated, and a Ministry-approved Legilimens has since corroborated his story._

Below this paragraph there was a photograph of the Obliviator Headquarters. Several wizards were scrambling around frantically, investigating the small explosions that had been set off within the office, and trying to clear away the mysterious dark cloud.

Without finishing the entire article, Harry looked up at Hermione. His eyes were wide, and despite his efforts to remain nonchalant, his face colored a little. She smirked at him.

"Do you really expect me to believe that you didn't have anything to do with that?" she asked him, arms still crossed. "I've never seen anyone look so glum after a trip into Hogsmeade, even after Zonko's went out."

Harry sighed. It was pointless to argue. If only they hadn't created such a stir; maybe it wouldn't have made the papers, and then Hermione might not be any the wiser.

"Alright," Harry ceded, "It was us. We went in this morning. We didn't quite mean to make it such an ordeal."

"And how did you accomplish this?" she asked, although she really already knew the answer. She just wanted to know exactly how Harry had managed to brew effective Polyjuice potion right under her nose in such a short amount of time, or where he had gotten his hands on some of it ready-made.

Before answering, Harry glanced around. The torches were still burning and corridor was mostly dark, but empty aside from them. Except for the Fat Lady, of course. Upon seeing the Fat Lady's rapt expression, Harry took Hermione by the arm and led her into an adjacent corridor which was occupied by some less-nosy portraits. Once there, he glanced around again to be sure they were still alone. Satisfied that they were, he responded.

"Polyjuice," he stated simply. "I was Polyjuiced, and Sarah was under the cloak."

"And how did you-?" Hermione pressed, but Harry cut her off.

"Professor Snape had some left over," Harry explained, "From back when Slughorn made a bunch of it in sixth year. Malfoy stole most of it, remember? But there was still a tiny bit of it left in his storeroom."

"And you managed to get into his storeroom and steal it?" she asked. It would have been optimistic to the point of foolishness to imagine that Snape had simply allowed Harry to take the item in question.

Hermione knew that getting into Snape's storeroom and stealing it successfully had probably been more of a feat than getting into the Ministry safely.

"Yes," said Harry.

"How-?"

"I had a little help," Harry said dryly, smirking to himself. His face colored a little when he recalled that particular night's events, and what he had seen. When he saw Hermione's confused expression, his next words simply slipped out without a second thought. "Sarah distracted him for me."

As soon as he realized what he said, his eyes went wide, and he clapped his hand to his mouth. Hermione gasped.

"You're making her an accessory in all this, Harry!" she scolded him. "You had her break into Snape's storeroom, and then break into the Ministry! Do you know how much trouble you could have gotten her into? It's extremely generous of Professor McGonagall to let her stay and study here! What if Professor Snape had caught her? Or, or-"

Harry snorted to himself and cut her off again.

"Professor Snape caught her alright," he said sarcastically. As soon as he had, he was mentally kicking himself and screaming inside of his head. Why had he said that? Now Hermione was _sure_ to know something funny was going on. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, face still slightly colored.

"What do you...?" Hermione began, but she quickly noticed Harry's blush, and his facial expression of '_I wish I hadn't just said that_'.

At that moment, everything fell into place inside her brilliant mind. Sarah sure acted strangely flustered when it came to discussing Snape in any capacity, and she frequently looked nervous enough to be sick before her lessons. She knew what this must mean, and from this she was able to form a rudimentary idea of how exactly Sarah had managed to distract Snape in order to allow Harry the opportunity to steal the Polyjuice from inside the storeroom. Hermione gasped again.

"You don't mean they're-?" she began loudly, sounding astonished, but Harry immediately shushed her and glanced around frantically.

"Shhh! Don't go shouting it!" he whispered loudly. He then sighed, disappointed with himself. "I wasn't supposed to tell anyone. She'll hate me. I don't know what exactly they're doing, and I certainly don't know _why_, but they're doing... _something_."

Hermione's eyes were wide. She knew that Sarah wasn't technically a Hogwarts student, but the idea of anyone having some kind of relationship with one's teacher was still extremely scandalous.

"How did _you_ find out, then?" she asked.

"By accident, actually," Harry admitted. "I was going up to Sarah's room to tell her something, and well... there they were, snogging."

"_Right in the hallway?_" Hermione gasped loudly.

Harry shushed her again, eyes wide.

"Someone's got to do something," Hermione continued, "What if he's-? I mean, she's so young, compared to... It's not that I don't-," Hermione spat out rapidly, struggling to marshal her racing thoughts. Her facial expressions were shifting wildly between concern, shock, and an odd sort of amusement. A student-teacher relationship, let alone a student-Snape relationship, was mind-boggling and strange to imagine.

"It's fine, Hermione," Harry said calmly, "I've already asked her and made sure there's nothing, well, _wrong_ about it. It's entirely her choice. She knows what we're like about him, and she was terrified that we would shun her if we found out about it."

Hermione nodded. She could definitely understand why Sarah might feel that way. She felt more than a little shocked, but wasn't about to start disliking her because of it. Ron probably wouldn't start disliking her, either, if he were to find out; but he _would_ probably pitch quite a fit upon hearing the news. Ginny's reaction would probably be a lot more subdued.

"You can't tell _anyone_, Hermione," Harry pleaded, "Anyone. If Sarah wants to tell, that's up to her, but I don't want her to start mistrusting me. If she feels like she can't trust us, she really doesn't have anyone else here to trust, aside from Professor Snape, of course."

Hermione sighed and nodded again.

"Alright," she agreed. It would probably be a bit difficult to keep this particular piece of news under her hat, but she would manage. Besides, she had kept _much_ bigger secrets for Harry before.

"So what happened? What did you find?" she asked, getting back on track.

"Well, we got in just fine, just like last time," Harry continued. "I think I must have tipped one of them off that something was wrong when I had a little trouble getting into the records hall. I had Sarah standing watch at the door, and she had to set off a couple of Decoy Detonators and use some darkness powder to get us out of there."

"They said that _two_ files were missing," Hermione said, motioning to the copy of the _Prophet_ which Harry was still holding. "What did you take?"

Harry sighed.

"A whole lot of nothing, I'm afraid," he said. "I saw files with 'Garrend' on them and snatched them up right away, but by then, Sarah was already setting off the Decoy Detonators. I could hear the bang from the explosions. I panicked and only took what I saw first... but I didn't bother to check what was in the back of the drawer, or if the drawer underneath started with more Garrends."

"What's wrong with the files you took?" Hermione asked.

"They're rubbish," Harry explained. "They've got nothing to do with Sarah at all. They're just about a couple Muggles in Surrey who had to be Obliviated because they saw a Patronus or something. It was a complete bust."

Hermione nodded silently. Now she could plainly see why Sarah seemed so glum. She probably had been extremely excited at the prospect of finding out more about her strange circumstances, and coming away empty-handed must have been a huge letdown. She probably felt like she would never find out now. Hermione's eyes then narrowed in thought.

"What do you mean, in the back of the drawer?" she asked.

"It was strange," Harry said, "All of the other drawers I looked inside were jam-packed, no empty spaces anywhere. In this one, though, there was a big gap between the Garrend files that I found and the back of the drawer. It looked like there was something else back there, maybe another file. It looked like there was something sticking out of the folder, like it didn't fit, but I didn't see what it was, or what was on the file."

Hermione remained silent in thought, her eyes resting on the copy of the _Prophet_ in Harry's hand.

"It was probably nothing," Harry sighed, trying to assuage himself of his feelings of guilt for not taking a look at what else was there.

"I think you should keep reading that, if you haven't read it all," Hermione said, her tone serious. Harry looked confused for a moment, but then continued reading the article which he had stopped reading halfway through.

_Ministry officials report that only two extremely non-consequential files seem to have been stolen. As a precaution, however, the entire cabinet's worth of files from which the stolen files originated has been moved to a more secure area. "We don't want the thief coming back for more," says a Ministry spokesman. "As a precaution, we have moved the entire grouping of files to a much more secure location, and strengthened security for the entire department as a whole."_

_Although the Ministry will not specify where it has moved the files, the __**Prophet**__ believes that they have been taken to a Ministry-owned High-Security vault at Gringotts. More information will be provided if it becomes available._

Harry let out a stifled gasp, eyes wide. He slowly looked back up at Hermione. Her expression was serious.

"There's more," he said, his voice sounding slightly strangled. He felt similar to how he had felt after successfully escaping Godric's Hollow but not managing to kill the snake, which would have made it all worthwhile. "There's more. There's got to be."

"I think that's a safe guess," Hermione admitted. "I don't know what, or why, but I think there's something strange going on here."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, pleading for elaboration. Hermione could always manage to spot the answer to any problem, or explain most any mystery.

"They didn't just keep those files on lock-down with the rest of them," Hermione explained, "They took them away. _Completely_. And they locked them up inside Gringotts, which is even more secure than the Ministry," she said. "Arguably speaking, of course," she added as an afterthought, quickly recalling that they had successfully broken into _both_ of the reputedly 'secure' institutions.

"But what does it mean?" Harry pressed.

"I'm not sure, precisely," said Hermione. "I'm sure they've really tightened security for the records hall. There have to be all sorts of things in there that they don't want to get out. But they didn't move the whole lot of them to Gringotts, did they?"

"Just the one cabinet," Harry said, staring blankly. The image of that mysterious back-of-the-drawer file was swimming vividly in his mind.

"Exactly," said Hermione. "Just the one. They said that the files you stole were inconsequential, and by all rights, they sound it, so they're probably not lying about that bit. But it sure sounds like there's something else inside those files that they _really_ don't want getting out, and they might have assumed that's what the thief- you- were really after, but you didn't get it. And now they've moved it to Gringotts to make _sure_ that you don't."

Harry blinked. The vivid image was still swimming in his mind. He could have kicked himself. Why hadn't he bothered to look?

"Who knows what it could mean," Hermione continued, taking note of Harry's austere expression. "It could be something completely unrelated. There's a good chance of that."

"Or it could be what we were really after," Harry argued, eyes still unfocused. "And they're just trying to cover it up, whatever it is. Just like they covered up what happened with Sarah when she was a kid."

"We don't know that for sure, Harry," said Hermione.

"I know we don't," Harry admitted, "But what else does it sound like to you? What else could it be?" Harry shook the _Prophet_ in front of her, giving it a sharp smack with his other hand. "This just proves it. There's something else in that drawer, and I'd be willing to bet that it has something to do with Sarah."

Hermione sighed. She wasn't going to argue with him, and she didn't even want to. Even though she knew that they lacked all the facts, and that it very well _could_ be something completely unrelated, she couldn't help but think that he was right. Everything surrounding Sarah's past was extremely mysterious. Nothing could explain any of it adequately, and now it seemed as if the Ministry knew that someone was trying to find something out. Did the Ministry's reaction prove that someone really knew the truth?

She closed her eyes, trying to quiet her thoughts. Her mind, just like Harry's always tended to, was running away with her and jumping to conclusions which may or may not be correct.

"It is strange, I'll give you that," she said at last.

"I want to see what's in there," Harry said, his tone dripping of strong resolve.

"And now what," Hermione said, "You're going to break into Gringotts again? Hardly."

Harry grunted in frustration. He knew she was right. Breaking into the bank a second time would be exponentially more difficult and dangerous than getting into the Ministry had been.

"I think you're just going to have to give it up," said Hermione sadly.

Unfortunately, Harry's stubbornness would not allow him to do that. He simply _had_ to see what else was in there. He _had_ to see what the Ministry might be hiding. In his mind, he was absolutely convinced that it had something to do with Sarah. He didn't know when, and he certainly didn't know _how_, but he would somehow get his hands on it.

"Maybe," he said at last, folding up the copy of the _Prophet_ and stowing it inside his robes. "I'm keeping this, I want to show her."

"Do you really think she's going to want to try and break into Gringotts?" Hermione asked. "You told her what happened to us when _we_ did it. That was crazy, even then."

"Probably not," Harry admitted, "But I at least think she should know about this. Come on, Ginny and Ron must be wondering where we've gone off to."

With a quick glance around the corner, again be sure that they were unaccompanied, Harry and Hermione headed back to the portrait hole. If it were up to him, and he had a way and a means, Harry probably would have gone straight to Gringotts that very moment.

Unfortunately for him, they barely had a way and a means the first time they did it, and they had barely escaped. He knew that Sarah had been nervous enough about breaking rules to get into the Ministry. She probably wouldn't fancy the idea of breaking into Gringotts in the least. Still, if she was as compelled as Harry was by what he read in the _Prophet_, she might be convinced.

* * *

By this point, Sarah was already back in her room doing the exact same thing she had been doing the rest of the day: lying on her back in bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Fortunately, no one had said anything about her glum behavior at supper, so she and Harry hadn't been pressured to try and explain anything. She felt for sure that she would barely move from the spot until tomorrow evening.

Having another lesson with Snape would give her some slight sense of normalcy, even though her lessons were far from being 'normal' at this point. It would give her something to look forward to. She recalled just how nervous, excited, and apprehensive she had been at times over the previous week, while fretting about her upcoming lessons. Perhaps if she felt that sensation again, she would be able to push this feeling of disappointment to the back of her mind.

A short while after Sarah had arrived back in her room, there came a soft knock on the door. She sat up in bed, and the knock issued again. For a brief moment, she allowed her imagination to wildly invent that the person knocking on the other side of the door was Snape, but she knew who it most likely was.

When she got out of bed and pulled open the door, she saw that she was correct. There stood Harry, looking serious, and holding what appeared to be a newspaper of some kind.

"Sarah," he said as soon as she opened the door, "Can I come in? There's something you need to see."

Wordlessly, Sarah stepped aside to allow Harry entrance. Once he was inside, she shut the door behind him and turned to where he was standing in the middle of the room.

"What is it?" Sarah asked, eyeing the article of paper that Harry was holding. She moved back to her bed and sat down on its edge.

"Here," said Harry, tossing the copy of _The Evening Prophet_ into her lap. "See for yourself."

Sarah curiously examined the paper, and then unfolded it. It wasn't difficult to see what Harry wanted her to see; it was plastered all across the front page. For the next couple of minutes, Sarah sat in silence, reading the entire article. When she was finished, she slowly looked up at Harry. She didn't quite understand what Harry wanted her to see.

"So?" she asked. "We made the paper."

"That's not all," said Harry. He strode over to her, taking the paper from her hands and pointing to the important section of the article. "Read this bit again, very carefully, and really think about it."

Taking the paper back from him, she did as instructed. When she was finished, she looked back up at him. Her expression was stricken.

"What does it mean?" she asked.

"I think it means that we didn't get what we were after, and someone knows that we're after it," Harry said.

"What if it's something completely different? I mean, it could be anything, it could just be a coincidence," said Sarah softly, although she wished her words weren't true.

"I don't think it is," Harry whispered. It was time to tell her what he had kept quiet about yesterday. "Listen, Sarah... yesterday, in the drawer where I found those files, there was... something else."

"What do you mean, something else?" Sarah asked, leaning forward and setting down _The Evening Prophet_ on her bed.

"When I was getting the files, there was a big empty space in the drawer they were in," Harry explained. "There was something at the very back of it, and there were no files in between the ones I took and the thing in back. Only I didn't get a look at what was in back. You were already setting off the Decoy Detonators and I panicked. I wanted to get us out of there safely."

Sarah silently stared at him, imploring him to continue explaining.

"Well," Harry started again, his tone cautious, "Alphabetically, Sarah Garrend would have been behind Bruce and Joanne, wouldn't it?"

"You mean," Sarah started quietly, "It... it could have been _mine_?"

Harry nodded once.

"I didn't get a look at it," said Harry. "It could have been."

"But why would they lock it away like that?" Sarah asked, her tone incredulous.

"That's just it, isn't it?" said Harry. "Why would they lock it away like that? Probably the same reason they covered up what happened to you as a kid."

"We don't know that they-," Sarah began, but Harry cut her off.

"No, we _don't_ know for certain, but it certainly sounds that way, doesn't it?" Harry argued. "It _could_ be something completely different, but I don't think it is. But there's no way of knowing for sure unless we-,"

"Unless we break into _Gringotts_?" Sarah sounded as if she liked the idea just about as much as Hermione had. "That's crazy, Harry."

"What else can we do?" Harry implored.

"We can sit here and accept the fact that we're never going to find out anything," Sarah huffed, folding her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs. It definitely didn't seem she liked the sound of that plan. Harry smirked at her.

"Come on, we can't do _that_," said Harry, sitting down next to her on the edge of the bed. "Then we really _won't_ ever find anything out. I know it sounds hopeless, but where there's a will, there's a way, right?"

"A way that involves breaking into the most secure building in Wizarding society, right?" said Sarah, her tone dry.

"I've done it once before, haven't I?" Harry said.

"And you were nearly dragon food if I remember the story correctly," Sarah sighed.

If whatever they were looking for was inside Gringotts, it felt as good as gone to her. Still, she could not ignore the tiny spark of hope that ignited inside her upon hearing that there might be something more. Despite herself, she might be willing to do almost anything to banish this deep feeling of disappointment. She desperately wanted to find out more.

"Look," Harry said, "Just like with the Ministry, I'm not going to force you to do anything. It's entirely up to you. But I want you to know, if you _did_ want to, I'm right beside you in it."

"But why, Harry?" Sarah asked, turning to him. "Why are you willing to take such crazy risks like this? Haven't you had enough of that for one lifetime?"

"I think you deserve to know whatever is out there about you," Harry said truthfully. If only he had known the entire story behind his life's events upon turning eleven so many years ago. So many questions that had plagued him for years would have been answered.

"How are we going to do this, then?" Sarah asked. She had been inside the massive bank structure herself. The idea of getting inside to steal something was extremely daunting.

"I don't know," Harry said, standing up. "It's sure to take a lot more careful planning than getting inside the Ministry. It might take a while."

Sarah nodded silently. This was fine with her. The longer she had before they tried to do anything, the more magic she would learn, and the better prepared she would be. Perhaps by then she might even be almost on par with a normal witch or wizard of her age. There was no denying that she had a lot of catching up to do. If she had felt out-of-place and under-skilled breaking into the Ministry, she would certainly feel like a complete Muggle breaking into Gringotts.

"We'll talk more about it later," Harry said, moving for the door. "For now I just wanted you to see that."

Sarah placed _The Evening Prophet_ on her night stand, on top of the Garrend files. Before Harry left, she thanked him sincerely.

She had been feeling hopeless, but now she felt cautiously optimistic. There might still indeed be something for them to find. Even if they had come out of the Ministry empty-handed, at least their little undertaking had made the papers and allowed them to discover that there might be something more. Despite being faced with breaking into Gringotts, Sarah felt encouraged.

Courageous enough, even, to leave her room in search of the person she had been thinking about all weekend. Having the courage to do this was nothing compared to the courage she would need to pull off breaking into Gringotts with Harry. What did she have to lose?

* * *

Down in the dungeons, Snape was sitting alone in his private quarters, as he most often did. He sat in his study, in a large armchair facing the fireplace. The room was almost completely dark except for the warm light that the fire was giving off, and completely silent outside of the fire's merry crackling. In one hand, Snape held an open copy of _The Practical Potioneer_, and in the other was a half-empty glass of firewhiskey.

Even though he was looking into the open magazine, the words only danced before his eyes. He wasn't really reading them. Instead, his mind was consumed with thoughts of what had happened to him yesterday around this exact time. He couldn't stop thinking about it. After all, it wasn't as if an attractive, happily intoxicated girl stumbled into his quarters every night. Sarah had surprised him by showing up on his doorstep, and had also surprised him with her forwardness. If he had wanted to, Snape didn't have many doubts in his mind that she would have let him take her.

The entire situation still seemed so absurd to him. Here was an extremely attractive young witch, his _student_, no less, who was practically throwing herself at him. Snape had always prided himself on his extreme self-control, yet somehow he could not resist the girl. When they were close, he felt as if he became a lustful youth again, instead of a man in control of his actions. She was like a drug. He doubted that his reactions to her would be any different if had he ingested a lust potion.

As he recalled what had happened the previous night, he tugged on his shirt collar. A few beads of sweat that had nothing to do with the warm fire formed on his brow. He kicked off his boots and socks in an effort to cool down, but it had no effect. He could not get the girl out of his mind. The more and more he thought of her, the hotter the fire in front of him seemed to get. After fanning himself a few times with his magazine, he set it down on the floor beside him.

Something about last night still troubled him. When she had come knocking, she had been completely and utterly drunk. He could not help but wonder about her alcohol-impaired mental processes, and fear that perhaps she might not have come if she had been sober.

In spite of the confident air he always tried to give off, he was hugely insecure. Perhaps the girl had come to her senses by now and was off being snogged by some young, handsome student. _Probably a Gryffindor_, he thought darkly to himself. They seemed to have a nasty habit of stealing his women.

Tilting his head back, he downed the rest of his firewhiskey in one swig. Setting the glass down, he winced.

He quickly poured himself another glass. Alcohol, it seemed, was the cure-all that Potioneers had never been able to come up with. He soon felt pleasantly buzzed. In recent months, he found himself drinking more frequently than he had been, simply due to a lack of activity. There was no longer any Dark Lord to worry about, no vengeance to be seeking, no secret meetings to attend, and no life-or-death situations to concern himself with. His life, in a strange way, felt empty. It was not an emptiness that he lamented, however. The Dark Lord was gone forever. He had been willing to pay any price for this, and he had nearly payed the ultimate one.

Perhaps this was why he was so fixated on the girl. He simply had nothing else. Even as he thought this, he knew it to be a lie. The girl fascinated him. Her strange attraction to him was like an interesting experiment that he could freely test the boundaries of. Sitting here alone in front of the fire, with nothing but thoughts of Sarah swimming in his mind, he could no longer deny that he was indeed strongly attracted to the girl as well. _How could I not be?_ he thought to himself. She was so young and attractive. It was probably every man of his age's dream to have a young, attractive girl like that wanting his affections.

Maybe this girl, who had almost quite literally fallen into his arms, was giving him something new to fill his life with.

He took another long swig of his firewhiskey. Setting the glass down again, he unfastened the first few buttons of his shirt. He was extremely hot now. He closed his eyes. He greatly desired to be once again drowning in the girl's sweet scent, and to feel her soft skin under his fingertips. He let his imagination run wild, and sighed in frustration when he soon felt his trousers growing tight. He would not be reduced to doing _that_. He might feel like a lustful young man again, but this did not mean that he would sink entirely to that level.

As he sat silently staring into the fire and trying to calm himself down, he thought he heard a faint knock on the door out in his office. He sighed. This was probably just what his mind wanted to hear, he thought. Last night at this time he had been sitting in this very spot, drinking the very same firewhiskey, and reading the very same periodical when Sarah had come knocking. In his semi-aroused state, it was probably just his imagination playing tricks on him.

A few moments later, the knock came again. It was louder this time. Snape sat up more straightly in his chair, his brow furrowed, and he glanced at the door which lead from his study into his office. The knock came again. It sounded too real. Someone had really been knocking this time. Rising from his chair, he headed out from his study into his office.

When he reached his office, the knock sounded again.

"Stop that infernal racket, I am coming," he yelled, irritated.

As he approached the door, he would not dare to let himself imagine that it could be Sarah. Clearing his throat and putting his harsh demeanor back on, he pulled open the door roughly. He didn't open it all the way, and was sure to hide most of his slightly-disheveled and slightly-aroused state behind it.

When he saw who was standing in the darkened doorway, his eyes widened. His heart leapt. It had been a quite while since he had felt that particular sensation.

"Miss Garrend," he stated, looking down on her and still hiding most of himself behind the half-opened door. Perhaps he had fallen asleep in front of the fire, and he was now dreaming that Sarah had come again. He was pleased to see that she was dressed only in her Muggle jeans and t-shirt; she was lacking her usual Gryffindor robes that frequently covered them. This clothing revealed her form nicely.

She looked back up at him and blushed a little despite her courage in coming here. At least she now was brave enough to hold his intense gaze without looking away. For a moment or two, at least.

"I thought you agreed to start calling me Sarah," she told him softly.

"Ah, so you remember last night, then," he said. He knew the girl had been pretty drunk, but he hadn't been sure if she was intoxicated to the point of not having a memory of the events that had taken place. Apparently, she remembered.

"Of course I do," said Sarah. She then blushed a little more and looked away from him.

She did not know the reason for which Snape was partially concealing himself at the moment, and she felt discouraged that he hadn't opened the door all the way. Perhaps he was angry with her for what she had done, or tried to do, last night.

Snape tilted his head slightly at the girl. She suddenly looked hurt. What had he done? When it came to dealing with other people's emotions, he definitely wasn't very good. He suddenly felt helpless. His facial expression softened in concern, but he said nothing.

Sarah cleared her throat softly.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry," Sarah whispered. She now felt guilty for throwing herself at him while drunk. Maybe he thought she was only there because of being intoxicated, and he no longer trusted her. Whatever the reason, she was sorry.

Snape's eyes widened. _Ah,_ he thought to himself. _She must be frightened that I am upset at her for last night._ He smirked, but Sarah didn't see.

She couldn't be more wrong. He would have to show her.

"Sorry for what?" Snape asked, swinging the door open the rest of the way.

Sarah looked up when she heard the door's hinges creaking, and now saw that she could see all of him. She swallowed hard when she saw his state in greater detail. He was wearing black trousers and a loose collared white shirt just as he had been last night, but he was barefoot. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a few inches of his smooth, lean chest. She could not help herself when her eyes briefly flickered downward at his trousers, where she could see the definite beginnings of a bulge. It was then that she noticed that his brow, and the small portion of his chest that was exposed, seemed to have a fine sheen of sweat.

"For driving me mad?" he purred at her, stepping closer.

Sarah's pulse instantly quickened, and she stammered for words. It was difficult to concentrate with this obviously aroused, attractive man bearing down on her.

"I just thought, maybe, that you were, I mean, that you might be- about last night, I-," she stuttered.

To silence her, Snape brought his hands to her hips and pulled her close, quickly leaning down to capture her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Tonight, she did not taste of firewhiskey. She was sober. He inhaled through his nostrils as he kissed her, taking in the sweet scent that he had been longing for. When he broke the kiss, she was looking up into his eyes. He gave her a little smirk.

"There is nothing to be sorry for," he told her, pulling her inside the door and shutting it behind them.

He quickly pushed her back up against the closed door, pressing his body into hers. Her breath was coming in shaky gasps, and he could see the pulse racing in her throat. As he leaned forward and began kissing and licking the spot where he could see her heart frantically pumping, she gave a soft sigh. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

Inside his mind, he was toying with the idea of taking her somewhere a little more comfortable. She was sober, without a doubt. She had come here of her own accord, without any impairments in her judgment. She obviously wanted him. She had become immediately flustered and lost for words when she saw his burgeoning arousal. Now they were once again getting passionate. If that wasn't consent, he didn't know what was.

"Come," he said, straightening up and turning away from her. He quickly strode away and disappeared through the other door in the room. Sarah hurried after him.

Many hours later, after the sounds of their passion had filled his dungeon quarters, Snape was devoutly thankful for the fact that his rooms were so far detached from anywhere else in the castle where someone might have heard them.

* * *

Somewhere in a seedy pub in Knockturn Alley, two men were sitting across from one another at a darkened table in the corner. Both of them were wearing hooded cloaks, as was usually the custom of the establishment and of Knockturn Alley in general. They both knew who the other one was, but they could barely make out one another's features in the concealing shadows.

On the table, lying flat between them, was a copy of _The Evening Prophet_.

"You see," said one of the men, his voice gruff, "I told you it was only a matter of time. They're onto it already."

The other man slid the newspaper closer to himself, examining the article again.

"But they didn't even manage to get what they wanted, did they? It wouldn't be in the papers, otherwise. And now they've gone and sealed it up inside Gringotts. The Ministry must know what it is, too," said the other man.

"'Course they do," said the first man. "Well, only a few of them would. The Unspeakables. But they don't know as much as us."

"How do you expect them to find it now, if it's inside Gringotts? We're ruined," said the second man.

The first man snorted.

"It's _Potter_, isn't it?" the first man said, sounding impatient, and slapping his hand across the table onto the newspaper for emphasis.

"So she's definitely friends with Potter now, then?" the second man asked, sounding uneasy.

"Has to be. Isn't that what we wanted to happen? How else could she have pulled this stunt off alone?" replied the first man. "I know his style. He can't leave anything like that alone. Exactly what he did last time, to get in there." His finger was now jabbing the front page.

"I think that's what _you_ wanted," The second man gave the first man a harsh glare from underneath his hood. Having the girl befriending Potter _definitely_ wasn't part of his ideal version of plan. He could cause far too much trouble.

"Don't be that way," the first man argued, "Look, it could end up being even better for us in the end. Just imagine if she ends up taking out Potter, too. Besides, how else could she do all these things like getting into the Ministry or Gringotts without his help? There has to be more finesse to this plan than just turning her loose like some bloody rabid animal. She needs Potter. _We_ need Potter."

"He's got nothing to do with it," the second man spat. "What concern is he to me?"

The first man gave a loud, arrogant laugh.

"Do you have any idea how much that would help your cause, you idiot?" he laughed, "Just imagine what _that_ headline could read. We would be killing two birds with one stone as far as I'm concerned."

The second man's rage cooled slightly at this, and he settled back in his chair, waiting for his companion to say more. It was true that Potter's involvement now seemed absolutely necessary. She didn't have a chance of getting what she wanted without him now. Maybe his companion was right, and it would be better for the overall plan in the end. Much better, perhaps.

"At any rate, this should give you a springboard," the first man continued, his finger now jabbing the headline on the surface of the newspaper. "It might be a long while now, but when the next headline comes with something about a break-in at Gringotts, you'll know where they're headed next, and you had better be there if you want this all to keep working."

The second man nodded silently.

The plan seemed to be moving along. Patience would be a virtue in the time ahead.


	16. Healing Old Scars

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 16: Healing Old Scars.

* * *

Upon waking up, Sarah was momentarily startled. Her surroundings were unfamiliar. Instead of finding herself in her own private room which she had become accustomed to, she was in someone else's. The fire was burning a bit more brightly now and she could see a bit better than she could before. She was lying in a large four-poster bed, and it looked like she had been neatly and carefully tucked under the covers. The bed's linens were an emerald green with a silver lining. It was extremely comfortable.

After taking a deep breath, which again filled her senses with that same familiar, intoxicating scent, she sat up a little. The room around her was comfortably furnished yet simple. It was filled with dark woods, and the stone floor was plushly carpeted in most places with emerald green rugs. Not far from the bed was a huge wardrobe. This room, as well as the study she had already seen, had a few large bookcases in it. She could also see the door through which she knew was the bathroom. When she turned toward where the fireplace was, she saw that Snape was sitting on the edge of the bed, apparently shirtless, and looking away from her. She swallowed hard when she remembered why she was here.

_How would Harry have put it?_ she thought to herself. _Right, I've just 'shagged' my teacher._ Her face colored greatly when she remembered that beneath these sheets, she was completely nude.

Snape, who was staring into the fire, did not see that the girl had awoken. After their coupling, when she had fallen asleep, he had taken great care to tuck her into his bed, in the place where he usually slept. It was a strange feeling to know that he had bedded the young witch, and he contemplated the situation as he stared into the flames. As much as he would have liked to allow her to sleep in his quarters, he knew it was best that she left for the night. It wouldn't exactly look good to have her emerging from his quarters in the morning looking utterly shagged.

If she were to stay, he doubted he would be able to control himself. He would want her again and again, and the girl needed her rest. She wasn't ready for that kind of strenuous sexual activity after only just having been deflowered by him. He was already semi-erect again while he sat there contemplating her. Fortunately, he had at least put some trousers back on in an effort to suppress his temptation to take the girl another time. He knew that the girl would have to leave at some point soon, but he resolved to wait patiently for a while and see if she awoke on her own.

When Snape did not stir, Sarah cleared her throat softly. When he turned to look at her, she made sure that she had pulled the bedsheets up to her neck. She immediately blushed even deeper.

"Ah," Snape said softly, regarding the girl in his bed. "You are awake."

"How long was I asleep?" she asked.

"Not long," he replied, "Only a little while."

Sarah nodded silently and stared back at him. Without a shirt on, by the light of the fire, she could clearly see the large scar on the right side of his neck. Several moments of silence passed. Sarah's expression softened as she examined his scar, and he in turn tilted his head slightly at her, wondering what she could be thinking. At first he feared greatly that perhaps she felt guilty or regretted having sex with him. His fears of this were put to rest when she spoke.

"Your scar," she said, her voice a timid whisper, "It was Voldemort's, wasn't it. The snake?"

Snape flinched and his eyes widened considerably. He hadn't been aware that the girl knew the name that so many people still feared to speak. How had she known that it was Nagini who had bitten him? When she had asked him about the scar before on her very first trip to Diagon Alley, he had simply said he was bitten by a snake, but did not expound upon it. How did she know now that it had been the Dark Lord's snake?

Something hostile suddenly flared up within him when he realized the probable source of her knowledge. How much had Potter told her? At that moment, he had a great desire to use Legilimency on the girl to find out just how much Potter had said. Taking such an action, however, would most certainly break her trust of him, and he knew this. Still not replying, he tried to take a deep, calming breath.

Sarah's expression became one of a mixed concern and fear when she saw Snape's reaction to her using Voldemort's name. It almost looked as if he had been struck physically. Discouraged when he did not reply, she sunk a little lower into the sheets.

"Yes," he replied at length, his voice stony. "It was the Dark Lord's snake."

He turned to gaze back into the fire.

"How did you survive?" asked Sarah meekly. Even this was still a mystery to Harry. When he had told the story to her, he didn't have any idea of how Snape was able to survive the huge snake's bite, especially when Harry had thought him dead. She wanted to know how he survived.

Snape did not turn back to the girl. He continued staring into the fire, considering her question. He had only ever told Minerva what had saved him from Nagini's bite. When she heard, her eyes had been filled with joyous tears. It probably wouldn't have much meaning or significance to the girl in the same way, but he couldn't see the harm in telling her how he had survived.

"A phoenix," he stated. "A phoenix came to me."

Sarah remained silent, eyes wide. Snape remained silent as well. As he recalled what happened to him, it almost frightened him to imagine how omniscient the old man was, or still may yet be. How else could Fawkes have found him in his moment of need? Had Dumbledore already anticipated, prior to his own death, that he, Snape, would be in mortal peril from the Dark Lord at some point before his downfall? Snape felt himself shiver slightly at the thought of that piercing blue-eyed gaze and serene grin ever presently bearing down on him, although he could not see it.

"Albus Dumbledore's phoenix," he continued. "Found me. Somehow. When I awoke, his tears were upon my neck, and I was healed. Only a moment after, he left through a broken window, and I have never seen him again."

There were several more moments of silence. Snape continued staring into the fireplace. Every so often, he thought he could see the image of the phoenix dancing in the flames.

He turned back to look at the girl; she was staring at him in awe. He still wanted to ask her how much Potter had told her, but he didn't want to at the same time. If Potter had told her enough, she would know of his weakness, the true motive behind all of his actions which had been a secret to everyone except Albus. That was until he had surrendered over his memories to Potter when he thought himself as good as dead. The boy needed to know that he was a Horcrux. Afterward, when he had found himself alive, he almost wished that he had died instead of having to live with the knowledge that Potter knew everything.

Now, as he stared at the attractive young which who had willingly come into his bed, life seemed like a sweetly wrapped gift at which he had been given a second chance to open.

As far as he knew, Potter hadn't told anyone more than what was necessary. Even if he _had_ told the girl, Snape realized, it didn't matter. It didn't matter if the girl knew of his weakness; she had created her own, a new weakness in him, one that he could not resist. She must at least know this much. Seeing the wonder in her eyes as she observed him, he knew that Potter must have told her something about it. Swinging himself back onto the bed, he decided to find out.

Sarah sat up a little more, still careful to keep the sheets covering herself. Snape climbed up toward her on the bed, leaning back against the pillows. He was sitting on her right side, and he extended his left forearm out to her, resting it across her lap. She regarded him curiously for a moment, but then she began caressing the underside of his left forearm gently. There was a faded scar there that she hadn't been able to see under the more intense darkness in which they had made love. She knew what it must have been. She traced it gently with her fingers.

Snape watched her. He immediately knew she must know that this was formerly his Dark Mark. Potter must have at least told her that he had been a Death Eater in the past. To his surprise, she didn't regard it with disgust. To the contrary, she almost looked reverent as she caressed it gently.

"Isn't there anything you could do for it?" she asked softly, still caressing the spot where his Dark Mark had been. "A potion or something? To make the scar go away?"

"For this, no," he replied, his voice serious. "Some scars can never heal. Take your friend Potter, for instance."

He hadn't meant anything by it, but Sarah froze up nervously. She knew about the silent enmity that existed between them. She feared that if he knew about the friendship she had with Harry, some of that enmity might transfer over to her. Now he must know that Harry had told her things about him. She swallowed hard. To her relief, he did not launch into an anti-Potter tirade or start berating her with questions about how much she knew. Instead, he simply continued allowing her to caress his scarred arm, and said no more.

She turned to look at him. He looked back at her with his deep black eyes. His expression was serious, but she could not sense an outward change in his demeanor. He was still allowing her to touch him, and he hadn't said any more on the topic of her apparent friendship with Harry Potter.

"What about your neck?" she asked softly.

"Perhaps it could heal with assistance," he admitted, "But I will not try."

Sarah regarded him curiously. After a few moments of silence, he leaned into her and kissed her lips tenderly. Sitting back up, he swung his legs back over the edge of the bed and stood.

"Why not?" Sarah asked softly.

Looking into the fire again, Snape took a deep breath. His eyes involuntarily flickered to the top of his wardrobe, where there was a torn bit of parchment and a torn photograph.

"Because it is a reminder," he stated simply, refusing to elaborate for the moment. "Speaking of which, I feel it is necessary to remind you that having you emerge from my private quarters in the morning will look strange."

He turned back to the bed, leaning on one of its posts.

"Having you stay would arouse suspicion, among other things," he purred.

She could plainly see that the trousers he was wearing were getting slightly tented. Sarah swallowed hard, feeling herself growing hot again. If she stayed, she would probably end up shagging him all night. As she shifted in bed and felt a sore ache, however, she realized that this would probably be a bad idea. She winced and let out a tiny gasp of pain. Snape's expression immediately became one of concern.

"Are you well?" he asked quickly, knowing that he was most likely the source of any discomfort she might be experiencing.

"Yeah," she sighed, "Just a little sore."

Snape nodded. He had been prepared for this. He motioned to the foot of the bed, where he had neatly laid out all of her discarded clothing.

"While you dress," he said, moving to the other side of the room, "I shall get something for you."

He disappeared into his bathroom, shutting the door to afford the girl some privacy. Only after he had shut the door, Sarah emerged from the bed, completely naked. She dressed quickly. Even though Snape had already seen her like this, she was still nervous about him walking in on her.

After she was dressed, she sat down on the side of the bed. A few moments later, there was a knock on the other side of the bathroom door.

"Are you finished?" Snape's muffled voice called from within.

"Yes," Sarah called back to him.

Opening the door and entering the room, he held out a small blue bottle to the girl sitting on the edge of his bed. She took it from him, examining it.

"This will relieve any pain you may be experiencing," he told her. "It tastes a good deal better than the contraceptive potion, I assure you."

After she had drank the potion, she set the empty bottle down on his night stand, next to the empty bottle which had held the contraceptive. He extended his hand to her, helping her up. He looked her over. She appeared just fine outwardly, and didn't even bare many of the telltale signs which might give away the fact that he had shagged her. He had been exceedingly gentle with her, and hadn't left any marks on her body.

Satisfied with her appearance, he donned the white collared shirt which he had been wearing before, and he led her back out into his office. He was having an internal argument with himself about whether or not he should walk the girl back to her room. It had become routine for him, and he wanted to. A small part of him, which he had only barely began acknowledging, wanted to spend as much time near her as possible. This small part of him wanted the girl to know that he was a gentleman, and not the monster that many people made him out to be. The more practical part of him knew what people might begin to whisper if they were constantly seen walking about the castle together late at night.

When he reached the office door, the former part of him won out. He would take the girl back to her room. He had just bedded her, after all. The very least he could do would be to make sure she made it back to her own quarters safely. Opening the door for her, he stepped aside. When she realized what he must be doing, Sarah gave him a small smile and stepped out into the corridor. Snape followed behind her, shutting the door, and together they began the trek up to the seventh floor corridor where her room was located.

Along the way, Sarah kept shooting him sheepish little smiles. Whenever Snape would notice, he would tilt his head and raise an eyebrow at her. She could not put words to how she felt about this strange man. Here he was, looking as dark and dour as ever as he escorted her back to her room, but Sarah knew that something sweeter and kinder lurked just below the surface. She knew full well what he was supposed to be like from the stories which her friends had told her. He was supposed to be cold, uncaring, cruel, and calculating. She didn't deny that he probably _was_ one or more of these things most of the time. Despite this, she had somehow found a completely different person in him. Sometimes she would see some of these other negative elements come out in him, but for the most part he was a completely different person around her. It amused her.

"_What_ are you smiling about, witch?" he finally drawled at her, sounding slightly annoyed. To say the least, he wasn't used to being smiled at, and it confused him. He had no idea what she could possibly be smiling about.

"You," she said with a small giggle.

Snape gave her a little glare.

"I hardly think I am anything to smile about," he said, turning back to look down the corridor down which they were walking. "Countless curfew-breaking students are probably fleeing in terror at my approach."

Sarah knew this was probably true. He really didn't give his students, or anyone else for that matter, much to smile about. Quite the contrary. Most people saw only the man he had become, and feared him. They could not see the insecure young man full of unrequited feelings like Sarah could, even though she did not fully know what she was seeing most of the time. His insecurities made him incredibly sensitive and preceptive toward her. It was almost as if he knew what she was thinking or feeling most of the time.

He knew how delicate and fragile relationships of this nature could be, and now that he seemed to have found one, he was terrified to death of breaking it like he had with Lily. Whatever the reason for the strange relationship that had quickly developed between him and this young witch, he did not want it to stop.

When they reached the seventh floor corridor, Sarah paced back and forth in front of the blank stretch of wall a couple of times. Once her door appeared, Snape stepped forward and opened it for her, as was customary between them. Before entering her room, Sarah strode right up to him. She was looking up at him with the same little smile she had been shooting at him during their walk through the halls. He narrowed his eyes at her in utter confusion. She only smiled bigger.

"It has been a few days now since my last application of the glamour to your eyes," he said, looking down at her. Her eyes were still brown, but he wanted to be safe rather than sorry. "If you will permit me, I will reapply it."

Sarah gave a silent nod of consent. Her head was already tilted up toward him, and as he drew his wand out of his trouser pocket, he could not resist the temptation to lean forward and capture her lips again. When he withdrew from her, he raised his wand to her eyes. With a slight flick, Sarah winced and rubbed her eyes as they became irritated. As soon as the discomfort faded, she looked back up at him.

He looked back into her eyes with his own. At the moment, his eyes were not doing a very good job of masking the renewed desire lurking just inside him. When Sarah saw this, she blushed deeply.

"Perfect," he said, adding a gentle caress to the side of her face. He replaced his wand inside his pocket. "I shall reapply it in another few days. It should most definitely hold until then."

Sarah gave another silent nod.

"I will see you tomorrow evening for our next... _lesson_, Sarah," he said softly.

When he said her name, she closed her eyes. It sounded wonderful for him to call her Sarah instead of Miss Garrend, and she enjoyed it almost as much as he enjoyed her calling him by his given name. When he saw how his voice affected her, he gave her another gentle caress. His hand then fell away from her face and her eyes opened.

"Good night, Severus," she said. Taking courage in what they had already done with each other, she stood up on tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

He kissed her back softly, and it took every ounce of his restraint to keep himself from pinning her back against the open door and ravishing her.

"Good night," he whispered back. When she entered her room, he closed the door behind her softly.

As he strolled back to his dungeons, he was contemplating what other new types of 'magic' he might teach the girl in time.

* * *

The following morning, Sarah was sitting awake in bed. She was sitting up on her pillows with a book spread in her lap, reading. It was the same book she had been studying up on in preparation for seeing Hagrid again. This time, instead of being preoccupied on the section about dragons, she was reading about phoenixes. Harry had already told her about how Fawkes had saved him down in the Chamber of Secrets, but she was intensely curious about the magical creatures after she had heard Snape's tale of survival. The phoenix had saved him just as he had saved Harry.

She was beginning to read more in depth about the ability of the phoenix to carry immensely heavy loads when there was a soft knock on her door. Already having dressed herself for the day, she sprung out of bed, setting the book aside on her night stand where it rested next to her small bottle of Amortentia and the empty bottle which had contained the hangover cure. As she had already bathed thoroughly, she was not concerned about appearing shagged to whoever might be on the other side of the door, even though she knew who it most likely was.

Pulling the door open, she saw that she was right. There stood Harry, giving her a bright smile. He was pleased to see that she was dressed and looking neat; it appeared that her dreary mood of yesterday had improved somewhat. This was good news for him and the idea he was about to suggest.

"Hey Sarah," he said cheerfully.

Sarah smiled back at him and stepped aside to allow him entry into her room, but he shook his head quickly.

"Just stopping by," he said quickly. "I wanted to see if you'd like to come down to the pitch with us later for Quidditch practice. Ron reckons it's high time you learned how to fly a broom."

Sarah's eyes widened; the idea of flying a broomstick was, surprisingly, more frightening to her than the prospect of taking another ride on Buckbeak.

"Are you sure?" she asked uncertainly. "I've never-,"

"Of course I'm sure," he said confidently, smiling at her. "Hermione doesn't agree so much, of course, but Ron and I think you should. Ginny, too. She's offered to let you borrow her broom if I let her borrow mine for the afternoon."

Sarah still looked very uncertain. Harry laughed in a good-natured way.

"Come on," he goaded her, "You've already flown Buckbeak, haven't you? That's more experience than I had the first time _I_ flew a broom."

"I wouldn't say 'flown' so much as 'clung-onto-him-for-dear-life'," she corrected him dryly. He laughed again.

"It'll be fine," he tried to assure her, "We'll just get you started off real slow and see what you think of it from there. I promise I won't hoist you onto a bucking broomstick that will take you for a wild ride."

"Well, alright," Sarah ceded. "I guess I'll give it a try. What time?"

"One," Harry replied, "Just after lunch. Dress warm, it's pretty brisk out there."

"Alright, I'll be there," said Sarah. Harry smiled triumphantly.

"Great! See you then!" he told her before hurrying off to class.

When Sarah shut the door, she turned back into her room and sighed anxiously. She didn't much like the idea of climbing onto something as insubstantial as a broomstick in order to fly. From what she had seen, the Quidditch players didn't even wear much protective gear. Maybe Muggles had the right idea with their bicycle helmets and knee pads. She would soon find out.

* * *

After lunch in the Great Hall, Sarah was headed down to the Quidditch pitch with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Ginny was already holding Harry's brand new Firebolt and inspecting it excitedly. Harry, in turn, was holding her Nimbus which was actually new and of a recent model. After all they had endured during the war, Molly and Arthur had seen it fit to buy the Weasley children new brooms. The Nimbus, Harry knew, would be a more tame way for Sarah to start out on a broom than climbing on top of Harry's Firebolt. After his first one had been destroyed upon leaving Privet Drive, he couldn't resist the urge to buy himself a new one after the war. After all, he deserved it.

Sarah had taken Harry's advice and dressed warmly in heavy robes, as well as her Gryffindor scarf. She was wearing her Muggle hiking boots since she knew she would be walking outside. She knew that soon, however, her feet would probably not be on the ground, and it would not matter at all what she was wearing if she was sprawled out on the grass in the Quidditch pitch after falling off of a broom. Hermione was bundled up as well, and Harry, Ron, and Ginny were all wearing their crimson and gold practice robes.

It was a typical autumn day. It was dreary and gray but not raining, and it was very chilly.

Ron, walking next to Ginny, was eyeing Harry's Firebolt jealously.

"Why can't Sarah borrow _my_ broom?" Ron asked, sounding like a child deprived of a new toy.

"Your broom would be too big for her," Harry said. "She'll fit on Ginny's better."

Ron gave a sour smirk.

"Don't be like that, I'll let you have a go with it," Harry assured him.

Ron, apparently satisfied that he would get his turn on the Firebolt, remained silent. All three Quidditch players were eager to get onto the pitch, and they were walking very quickly. Sarah hurried to keep up with them, but Hermione fell behind slightly. She was regarding all of them nervously, especially Sarah.

"Are you sure about this, Harry? She could get hurt," said Hermione.

Harry turned back to look at her, but it was Ron who answered.

"Of course she could get hurt, Hermione," he said, "It's a broomstick. We could _all_ get hurt. But she couldn't get a better flying teacher than Harry, could she?"

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment.

"No, I suppose not," she admitted quietly.

"See?" said Ron, falling back a little to put his arm around Hermione as he walked. "Everything will be fine."

As the small group of friends walked along, they fell silent when they all noticed another group of people walking not too far away, down the lawn toward the pitch. These people were also carrying broomsticks, but they were clad in green and silver instead of crimson and gold. Hermione looked a little apprehensive, and Sarah looked confused, but Harry, Ron, and Ginny's expressions all turned to stony glares.

"What are _they_ doing here? _We_ booked the pitch for practice today, not _them_," said Ginny, her tone heavy with dislike.

"I'm not sure," said Harry, sounding cautious, "But I'm sure we'll find out."

When they reached the pitch, they were greeted by the other members of the team. Harry, who was again captain, had a very similar team to the one he had in his sixth year. He was still Seeker, of course, and Ron and Ginny were still playing Keeper and Chaser respectively. He still had his former Beaters of Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote. The other two Chaser positions were being filled by Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas, who had both elected to repeat their seventh year at Hogwarts. The two were inseparable. For Dean, who had been out of school and on the run for most of the previous year, the choice had been a natural one. For Seamus, however, it involved a large shouting match with his mom in order for him to be allowed to repeat his seventh year.

Upon arriving at the pitch, Sarah was also greeted by all of them. She did not know the other members of the team very well, but they had become acclimated to her presence in the Gryffindor common room. Harry had, of course, explained to them that she was studying abroad from America, and they had accepted her warmly.

After everyone had greeted one another, they all turned and sneered in the direction of the approaching green-and-silver-clad group. Sure enough, only a minute later, the Slytherin Quidditch team strolled up to them as if they owned the pitch. As Captain, Harry stepped up in front of them, standing defensively before his team. The Slytherin team was almost completely different now, but it still maintained the same character. The new Captain was just as big and ugly as Marcus Flint had been, and he was glaring down at Harry with disgust.

"What are _you_ lot doing here?" said the Slytherin Captain, regarding the Gryffindor team before him. "We booked the pitch for today, you lot can just shove off."

Harry glared back at the Slytherin Captain. By force of habit, he also glared at the only familiar face in the Slytherin crowd.

Draco Malfoy.

Draco had been one of the only Slytherins to elect repeating his previous year of education. It seemed that he had changed completely after the events of the war. He had become greatly subdued. He was no longer the antagonist he had been in Harry's younger years. It was only by Harry's testimony that Draco and his family were able to remain out of Azkaban. Draco also realized just how many times Harry had saved his life. Because of this, he had become greatly humbled, and now regarded Harry with a kind of ashamed and silent respect. With Crabbe dead and Goyle out of school, Draco struck a strangely lonely figure, spending most of his time by himself due to a lack of real friendship. He was almost perpetually quiet now. When Harry glared at him, Draco's eyes widened, and for a moment, he almost appeared hurt.

Harry immediately regretted his glare. Although he and Draco would probably never be true friends, he at least felt that he understood him in some way. He knew that Draco hadn't really been completely evil; he had just been a misled boy who got in way over his head and had been forced to do some truly terrible things that he never wished to. Now that he was quiet and complacent, Harry didn't have a problem with him. He didn't bother much of anyone anymore.

There was an awkward silence. Harry cleared his throat and attempted to give Draco a sincerely apologetic look.

"Well, Potter?" the Slytherin Captain grunted. His entire team, except Draco, looked like they were all bracing themselves for a fight. Draco simply stared off quietly in another direction, intent to ignore the conflict. He'd had quite enough conflict for one lifetime.

"I booked the pitch for practice today," Harry said resolutely, not in the least bit intimidated by the Slytherin team. "You must be mistaken."

Ron, Dean, Seamus, Coote, Peakes, and even Ginny all crowded around behind Harry in a similarly intimidating manner. Hermione and Sarah backed away a couple paces. It was odd how school politics had barely changed despite the fact that Harry had quite literally saved the world for all of them.

Draco's eye, which had been staring away from the brewing fight, was caught by Sarah as she and Hermione backed away from the squaring-off Quidditch teams. He had heard tell around the school of an American student come to study abroad, and that she had been adopted into Gryffindor, but he had never seen her. From the fact that he did not recognize her face and that she was tagging along with the Gryffindor Quidditch team with Granger, he correctly assumed that it was the American student he had heard about. When the girl looked up, she looked a little startled to see him staring at her. He couldn't possibly explain why, but despite himself, he gave her a faint smile.

When Sarah looked up, she saw that only one member of the Slytherin team was not gearing up for a fight. Instead, to her surprise, he was looking straight at her curiously. He was tall with a pale, pointed face and sleek white-blonde hair. His eyes were gray. Judging from the behavior of the rest of his team, Sarah was expecting to get a harsh glare from him. She was caught off guard when she got a tiny smile instead. She smiled back at him. Both Quidditch teams, as well as Hermione, were absorbed in the conflict at hand, and no one saw. Both Sarah and Draco looked back to the Slytherin Captain when he spoke up again, breaking the silence.

"I think you're wrong, Potter," said the Slytherin Captain. He cracked his knuckles ominously. "I think you lot had best get out of here before our Beaters start practicing with your heads."

In response to his threat, the Gryffindor team crowded around Harry even tighter. Coote and Peakes had their bats held closely at their sides, clearly intending to illustrate that they were not above trying out the same thing with the enemy team. There was a slight muttering in the Slytherin team, and they all crowded around tighter as well. That was all except for Draco, who was now standing a foot or two away from his crowding team and looking thoroughly embarrassed.

The tension was palpable and it continued mounting. Just before it looked like it was about to come to blows, a sharp whistle sounded in the distance. Both teams immediately looked to the source of the noise. Strolling down the lawn toward the pitch were two figures. The one who had blown the whistle was obviously Madam Hooch, and the other was identifiable by his billowing black robes as Professor Snape.

He had known that the Quidditch pitch was double-booked for practice today. In fact, he had been the one to make it that way. He still enjoyed causing fleeting annoyances in Harry's life. To him, it was his little way of making The Boy Who Lived repay all the years of misery and sacrifice that he endured because of him. He knew it would create a conflict between the teams. Whatever it escalated to beyond that was completely out of his control, the more physical the better.

Normally he would have completely stayed away from the conflict, content to imagine it taking place without him, especially because he did not wish Potter to know that he was the party responsible for it. Today, however, was different. He was heading down to the pitch in order to break it up. He was actually foiling his own plans.

To anyone who might have asked, he was only concerned for the well-being of his team. The actual truth behind it was that he had seen Sarah trailing along behind Potter and the others on their way down to the pitch after lunch. If the little conflict he had created boiled over too far, he knew that she might become involved due to her close ties with Gryffindor House. Instead of risking harm coming to her, he decided he would intervene. He had summoned Madam Hooch and was now making his way down to the pitch with her.

When Hooch and Snape reached the two teams, Snape stood by his team and crossed his arms, staring down the Gryffindor team with disdain. Though Sarah did not notice, Hermione was now closely observing her as she glanced nervously at Snape and blushed slightly. Sarah made sure to distance herself from the Gryffindor team, and Snape's disdainful glare, by another few feet. She swallowed nervously. Sarah glanced curiously at the woman with short gray hair and strange yellow, hawk-like eyes. Hooch spoke up.

"What seems to be the trouble here?" she asked loudly, looking over both of the teams.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but the Slytherin captain spoke first.

"Potter here seems to think he booked the pitch for practice today," he spat.

Hooch reached inside her robes and pulled out a strip of parchment. She examined it for a moment and then spoke up again.

"This is true, but Professor Snape has also booked the pitch for this afternoon. It seems the pitch has accidentally been double booked, so both teams will have to share unless one of you is willing to leave," she explained harshly.

The teams glared at one another again; neither team backed down. It looked like they would have to share the pitch for the afternoon.

"All settled, then?" Hooch asked loudly, her yellow eyes shifting between the two Captains. When they both nodded grudgingly, she began striding back up to the castle without another word.

The tension momentarily broken by the intervening referee, both teams gravitated to their own separate ends of the pitch. They had each procured a box containing all of the essential Quidditch balls for practice, so they would not have to share anything other than possible airspace. Each team would do its best to stay on its own side, mostly to avoid the elbows or Bludgers of the other team.

Even though Hooch had left, Snape remained behind, and took a seat in the stands on what became the Slytherin side of the pitch. He was pretending to watch his team begin practicing, but he was actually watching Sarah. She was now standing closely with Potter as the rest of the Gryffindor team took to the air, conversing over a broomstick.

Seeing her with Potter caused something primal and fierce to flare up within him. He looked so much like James that it was almost like seeing James with Lily again. When he looked at Sarah and Harry together, that is what his mind's eye saw. They were conversing closely, Potter having placed a broomstick on the ground at Sarah's side. Sarah looked nervous, and Potter began gesturing at her, apparently demonstrating the proper way to pick up a broomstick from the ground.

_So that's what he is doing_, Snape thought to himself. Potter appeared to be giving Sarah the same type of broomstick lesson that first years received annually from Madam Hooch. He smirked to himself. _I wonder whose idea __**that**__ was_.

He sighed to himself. He could barely stand the sight of her with Potter. He felt some primal urge to confidently walk over there and lay claim to her and insist that he teach her to fly instead. He knew he could not do this without arousing the suspicion of the entire school. He gritted his teeth and remained rooted on the spot, glaring at Potter.

Snape watched for a while from a distance as Sarah's lesson progressed. The two teams overhead were practicing heatedly, and occasionally a rogue Bludger from one side would come dangerously close to a player on the opposing team, but he did not notice. He watched as Sarah was quickly able to summon the broom into her hand, and began tentatively hovering above the ground with Harry's close instruction. She seemed to get the hang of it fairly quickly, and she was soon slowly making her way around the Gryffindor end of the pitch at a very low altitude. Snape narrowed his eyes at Potter, who looked utterly pleased with himself and his student's progress.

A while later, it looked like Sarah became a bit more confident, and even started daring to climb to some of the altitudes at which the Gryffindor players were flying. Harry remained standing on the ground, directing the team's drills from below, and also keeping an eye on Sarah's progress. She appeared to be growing comfortable with flying the broom. With some time and practice, Harry thought, she might even learn to play Quidditch.

Sarah did find the experience exhilarating. Ginny's Nimbus was steady, and she found that flying it wasn't nearly as terrifying as she thought it would be. It was even less terrifying than Buckbeak, she realized. She felt in control, and even began daring to dart around at faster speeds. The feeling of the cold autumn air flowing through her long hair was wonderful. She could feel her scarf whipping around her neck. She was so excited that she managed to forget she was not just only under Harry's watchful eye, but Snape's as well. If she had remembered this, she probably would have been much more nervous as she learned to fly. Always having been fairly athletic, Sarah felt herself taking quickly to flying. She was greatly enjoying herself, flying around the Gryffindor end of the pitch while the team practiced.

Unfortunately, as Snape watched Sarah, he did not notice two very important things. For one, he did not notice that he himself was also being closely observed by Hermione Granger. His apparent tension at watching Sarah interacting with Harry was proof enough to her of what Harry had let slip to her last night. Snape was undeniably attracted to the girl for some reason, and he apparently could barely stomach seeing her with Harry.

For two, he did not notice his team's Beaters beginning to find an amusing game in aiming Bludgers at the new Gryffindor girl. Harry did not notice this either until it was too late. Thankfully, Sarah had descended to a lower altitude, but being new on a broom, she was not able to evade the Bludger which was hit at her from the Slytherin side of the pitch. She didn't even see it.

Although they did not know it, both Harry and Snape gasped in unison as they saw the Bludger heading for her. To Snape's surprise, he saw another Slytherin player, extremely fast on his broom, trying to speed over to the Bludger and deflect it with his own body.

Unfortunately, he missed, and the Bludger sped on toward Sarah, striking her square in the back. She was knocked off of her broom hard with a terrible thud, falling a respectable distance to the ground, where she did not move.

When this happened, there came a triumphant laugh from the Slytherin side of the pitch, and the entire Gryffindor team screeched to a halt in their activities and sped down toward the ground and their fallen friend. Harry immediately sprinted over to where Sarah fell, but he was nearly thrown backwards when someone else got there first. Before he knew what was going on, there was a billowing black-robed figure kneeling at Sarah's side, hunched over her.

This stopped the Gryffindor team dead in their tracks before they reached the ground, and it also silenced the laughter coming from the Slytherin side of the pitch. Since when had Snape rushed to the aid of an injured Gryffindor? By their reckoning, he should still be sitting on their side of the stands sharing in their laughter, or at least smirking smugly to himself. Instead, he was kneeling by the girl's side on the ground, looking severe. The Gryffindor team was equally baffled. Both teams watched in a stunned silence as Snape gently turned Sarah over onto her back. He appeared to be examining her neck and head with his hands, searching for broken bones.

No one dared approach but Harry.

When Harry reached Sarah's side, Snape looked up at him, glaring.

When he looked up to glare at Potter, he realized his mistake. It had been a natural impulse to rush to Sarah's aid, but now he saw how both teams were hovering in midair at low altitudes, gaping at his strange altruistic behavior toward the Gryffindor girl. Still glaring at Harry, he cleared his throat and continued examining Sarah. She groaned faintly and stirred. Harry knelt down beside her as well, trying to avoid Snape's eye. His glare had been so severe that it clearly communicated a message of, _this-is-entirely-your-fault-and-I'm-going-to-hex-you, Potter_.

Even as he blamed Harry, Snape knew that it was mostly his own fault. He felt a terrible pang of guilt inside his chest. He had been the one to purposely double-book the pitch in order to cause annoyance to Potter and his team. Now it had resulted in Sarah having quite a rough dismount from her first broom-flying experience. If there was anything he did not want, it was to cause the girl any kind of pain.

As he carefully and tenderly examined her neck, he found no broken bones. He patiently asked her to move each of her limbs and all of her digits to insure that there were not any breaks in her back. Sarah did not answer except with soft groans of pain while she moved, but she could move everything. She did not appear to have broken anything. Satisfied with his inspection, Snape straightened up. Harry was leaning over Sarah just as he had been, worried about her well-being. Harry felt guilty, too; he had been the one to suggest she learn to fly today.

When Snape straightened up, Harry looked over at him questioningly. The two teams continued watching the display in silent awe.

"She is fine," Snape said matter-of-factly in response Harry's silent question. "There appears to be no broken bones, but I will take her to the hospital wing just in case."

Both men stood and held a hand out to Sarah.

"Can you stand?" Harry asked her.

Sarah nodded silently and took Harry's hand in her right hand, and Snape's in her left. Together, they lifted her to her feet. When she was standing, she groaned softly again and winced in pain. She didn't have any broken bones, but she was extremely bruised and shaken up. The wind had quite literally been knocked out of her, which always tells of a painful fall.

When she was on her feet, the entire Gryffindor team began clapping and cheering for her as if she was one of their own players who had come back into the game after an injury. Still in pain, she gave a shaky smile up at them.

"Well done!" shouted Ron, clapping for her as he glanced nervously in Hermione's direction. She had gone pale. Ron knew, as did Harry, that he would probably get quite a talking-to when practice was over.

"Show those Slytherins what we Gryffindors are made of!" Seamus shouted. Dean cheered loudly at his best friend's words.

Coote and Peakes were already clubbing their bats menacingly against their palms as they eyed the Slytherin Beaters across the pitch.

Harry apologized profusely to Sarah and assured her that they would all see her later. Snape, careful not to place another hand anywhere on Sarah's body while in line of sight of the Quidditch pitch, began leading her back up to the castle.

When they were gone, Ron soared down to Harry's side. The Slytherin team had already resumed their practicing, and the Gryffindor team slowly got back into the swing of things while aiming Bludgers toward the Slytherins.

"Blimey," Ron said, sounding astonished, "Did you _see_ how fast he got over here? What do you reckon _that_ was about?"

"No idea," Harry lied.

Hermione still looked pale.

* * *

Once they were safely inside the castle, and out of sight of anyone who might be watching, Snape turned Sarah into a dark corner. He placed a hand on either one of her shoulders as if to be sure her structural integrity was whole and intact.

"Are you well?" he asked her softly. "I am sorry," he supplied, feeling guilty, "I did not see the Bludger soon enough... had I seen it sooner I might have been able to deflect it with a spell."

He feared that if the girl became angry with his team, her anger might transfer over to him as well. Maybe she thought that he should have prevented it from happening. By now she was already well aware of the animosity that existed between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"I'm alright," Sarah said meekly. "It's not your fault."

Snape remained silent for a few moments, looking into her eyes. He could see physical pain there. He would not admit to her how much of his fault it really was.

"I shall take you up to the hospital wing," he told her, "Madam Pomfrey will want to examine you to be sure everything is alright. That was quite a fall."

He slowly and patiently led her up to the hospital wing. Although she had no broken bones, her body was in pain, and she did not seem to want to move very quickly. He supported her the entire way up, always extending his hands to her when she appeared shaky on the stairs or unsteady on her feet.

When they entered the wing, Madam Pomfrey was nowhere in sight. The wing was also completely empty. Snape led Sarah over to the bed that she had occupied when she first arrived at Hogwarts. She quickly laid down on the comfortable bed, sighing. Snape hurried over to the door which led into Pomfrey's office and private quarters. When he knocked, she promptly opened the door, looking harried. When she set eyes him Snape, she immediately looked over his shoulder to the girl lying on the bed.

"What's been done to the poor girl this time?" she said, bustling out of the room toward the bed Sarah was lying on. Snape slowly followed after her.

"I'm afraid she was hit in the back by a Bludger and had a bit of a fall off of a broom," he explained.

Madam Pomfrey gasped as she began checking Sarah over.

"Why, I never!" she huffed, "Flying already... of all the things..."

Snape watched as Pomfrey checked Sarah over quickly while muttering to herself. He was certain that she was not seriously injured from his previous inspection of her, but he was still concerned.

"She looks fine," Pomfrey said, already bustling over to her medicine potion cabinet. "Only some bad bruises and a shaking-up. Nothing a pain relief potion and a few hours of rest won't fix."

Snape was relieved when he heard that Sarah would be well enough to attend her evening lesson. Before exiting the hospital wing, when Madam Pomfrey wasn't looking, he leaned down to kiss her softly. He had to be sure that she wasn't angry at him for his team's behavior toward her and her friends. She certainly didn't seem to be. Still, he felt like he needed to make it up to her somehow. He was thinking feverishly to himself on his way back to the dungeons, trying to think of some way he could do this.

He came up with what he thought was an excellent idea.


	17. Things out of the Norm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 17: Things Out of the Norm.

* * *

Late in the afternoon, a tall young man with white-blonde hair and a pointed face was slowly making his way toward the hospital wing. He was still dressed in his green and silver practice robes. He appeared to be fairly uncertain of himself; he glanced around warily as he went and seemed to be somewhat nervous. In his right hand he was holding several long-stemmed roses. It had taken all of his concentration and the best of his transfiguration ability to transform a few of his writing quills. He was going to see the girl who had been hit by the Bludger earlier in the afternoon.

He _was_ uncertain of himself. It wasn't as if he made a gesture like this every day. Before he had seen the American girl down at the Quidditch pitch, he had heard tell of the American student around the school. Something inside him was secretly longing to try and befriend whoever this new person might be. Even though he was a Hogwarts student once again, he felt like an outsider, and in truth, he was. He did not endure the verbal or physical punishments of his peers for his past crimes, but the terrible isolation he faced was bad enough. He had no friends anymore. Truthfully, he hadn't even had any real friends to begin with. He was now completely alone in the school, and although most of his fellow students never said anything to him, he knew he was being looked down upon for his involvement in what had happened in the past. He went on with his own business quietly, never bothering anyone or going out of his way to say anything. He understood how everyone must feel about him, and resigned himself to being completely alone for the remainder of his time at school.

Upon hearing that a new student had come to the school from very far away, he had regained a shred of hope. Here was someone who would have no prior knowledge of his past misdeeds, no preformed conceptions of what he must be like, no ingrained distaste for the name of 'Malfoy'. Here was someone with whom he might be able to have a blank-slated beginning with. He didn't know much about who this person was, but his lonely mind began desperately forming ideas of how he might befriend them and start anew. This was how he had brought himself to smile at her earlier in the afternoon. Unfortunately, having her get attacked by a Bludger from his Quidditch team probably wasn't anyone's idea of starting off on the right foot.

Draco sighed to himself.

She probably already disliked Slytherin and anything or anyone having to do with it because she had been adopted into Gryffindor, and the Bludger incident definitely hadn't helped. Potter and all her new Gryffindor pals must have already taught her how to hate Slytherin

Nervously, he pressed on toward the hospital wing, hoping that he was wrong.

* * *

When it was nearing supper time, Sarah knew that she could soon leave the hospital wing. She no longer felt any pain whatsoever, but she remained in bed as Madam Pomfrey continued fussing over her. The watchful woman absolutely would not let her leave until half past five. Earlier in the afternoon, the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team had come to visit her and make sure that she was alright. They praised how well she had taken her first Bludger hit and her first fall from a broom, and regaled her with stories of retaliatory Bludgers aimed toward the Slytherin team. All-in-all, aside from being hit by a flying iron ball and free-falling about ten feet to the ground, it had been a pretty good day so far. As she lay back and relaxed in bed, she was looking forward to only one thing: this evening's lesson with Snape.

Thinking about Snape, Sarah looked up hopefully when one of the hospital wing's doors creaked open and someone stepped inside. Madam Pomfrey, who had busied herself inside her cabinet of potions, immediately hurried over to him. Sarah recognized him as the young blonde-haired man from the Slytherin Quidditch team who had smiled at her earlier. He looked startled when Madam Pomfrey accosted him, and Sarah could not hear what they were saying as they conversed.

When a moment of silence fell, Madam Pomfrey seemed to nod, and then walked away to continue on with whatever business she was taking care of. The young man let out a large sigh of relief, and Sarah sat up in bed to regard him.

She recalled how the entire Slytherin team had been gearing up for a fight, all except for one: this young man who had smiled at her. His demeanor had made him appear out-of-place among his team of hooligans, and he had even looked thoroughly embarrassed at his captain's brutish behavior toward Harry and the Gryffindor team. Still standing in the doorway, Sarah gave him a small smile when she saw him turn to look at her.

Draco swallowed hard when he saw that the girl on the bed was looking in his direction, but it felt as if a tremendous weight was lifted off of his shoulders when he saw that she was smiling. Surely she must have already recognized him from earlier, if not for his appearance, than for his green and silver robes. If she was going to be hostile to the entire Slytherin Quidditch team, or even the entire House, she probably would have glared at him or resolutely ignored him all together. Instead, she was looking straight at him, her head slightly tilted as if wondering what he was up to, and smiling.

Returning her smile with a small smile of his own, (he wasn't quite used to that particular function of his facial muscles yet), he strode over to where the girl sat. Shifting his roses over into his left hand, he extended his right hand out to the girl as he approached. When he drew close to her, she took his hand in her own and shook it.

"Draco Malfoy," he said quietly, "These are for you."

Sarah's eyes widened and she looked a little startled when the young man introduced himself as Draco Malfoy. Harry had, of course, told her all about him and what he had been involved with in the past. She had not yet met him, however, and hadn't recognized him as the Slytherin Quidditch player who had smiled at her earlier in the afternoon. From what Harry had told her about him, that seemed like a highly uncharacteristic gesture.

Sarah's expression softened, however, when her eyes fell upon the roses that Draco was holding out to her. This too seemed highly uncharacteristic, yet here he was, visiting her in the hospital wing and bringing her flowers. Somehow, at that moment, she knew that Harry would probably never believe her in a million years if she told him about this.

"Sarah Garrend. Nice to meet you, Draco," she replied sincerely. "They're beautiful, thank you."

Luckily, because Draco was so nervous, he hadn't noticed the slight change in Sarah's expression when he had told her his name. Instead, he looked very satisfied with himself, and was now setting down the roses on the small cabinet next to Sarah's bed. Smiling again, he took a seat on the bed opposite her. Looking her over quickly, he spoke up again.

"How are you doing?" he asked, his voice still sounding about as uncertain as he looked. "I wanted to make sure you weren't badly hurt. I'll wager none of the other Slytherin players have come to see you," he said, sounding ashamed.

"You'd be right," Sarah replied, but she was still smiling, and she even laughed a little. "I'm just fine, I was just bruised up a bit is all. No harm done."

Draco smiled back at her, looking relieved.

"I knew they might start trying to do something like that," he said. "I actually tried to throw myself in the Bludger's path but I couldn't get there fast enough."

Sarah's eyes widened again. Here was Draco Malfoy, the same young man that Harry had told her about; he had come to see her in the hospital wing, brought her flowers, _and_ had even tried to throw himself in front of the Bludger that hit her? Harry was never going to believe this.

"Wow, that's brave," Sarah said. "That thing didn't exactly feel very nice."

"Don't I know it," Draco replied. "I've had my fair share. The Gryffindor Beaters have never liked me much, really," he murmured.

Sarah nodded a couple of times, content to let him believe that she thought this dislike was based purely on the Gryffindor-Slytherin animosity. She did not let on that she pretty much knew most of his life's story from Harry. Judging from his gestures toward her thus far, she assumed that he wanted to let that part of his past be just that; the past. It appeared to Sarah as if he was trying to turn over a new leaf, and trying very sincerely. She wouldn't let her prior knowledge of him ruin it.

"That was actually my first time on a broom," Sarah added. "It wasn't exactly the dismount I imagined."

It was now Draco's turn to widen his eyes.

"First time on a broom?" he repeated, sounding surprised. Young witches and wizards not learning to fly a broom was practically equivalent to a Muggle child not learning to ride a bicycle.

"Er...," _I've only actually been a witch for a little while, actually._ "Yeah, Quidditch wasn't very big where I came from, you could say. It's obviously a lot bigger here."

"It's _huge_ business here at school," said Draco.

"I can tell," said Sarah, grimacing and rubbing her side for emphasis. "The teams looked like they were about ready to tear each other apart."

"They would have, if not for Madam Hooch and Professor Snape coming down. We probably would have had a full-blown brawl," he said. He then looked around at all the empty beds in the wing. "There would probably be a lot more people in here if _that_ had happened."

"We should be glad I was the only casualty then," Sarah laughed.

Draco gave her a faint smile.

"Slytherin won't make you feel very welcome here, I'm afraid. I'm sure you can tell already," he said.

"I don't think that's entirely true," said Sarah, smiling brightly at him. "Here you are visiting me in the hospital wing and bringing me flowers," she continued. "I think _that_ counts as welcoming, don't you?"

Draco took the compliment and smiled faintly again.

"The rest of them, anyway," he clarified, smiling grimly at her.

"Yeah, you're probably right, from what I've seen so far," said Sarah. "Apparently putting on some Gryffindor things made me a target."

"That's about right," said Draco. "Keep a look out while you're walking through the halls, I bet a few members of the team will still be out to get you."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Sarah. "Speaking of which, aren't they going to be kind of unhappy with you for all this?" she said, motioning to the roses and then to him.

Draco sighed. He was already effectively alienated from his House, as well as the rest of the school. If the Slytherin students were to find out about this, he would probably become the object of much of their scorn. After a gesture like this, he might as well be a Gryffindor to them. He might have rushed over and helped her where she had fallen on the pitch if not for that looming threat above his head. Fortunately, Snape had gone to help her instead, something which he had not really put a lot of thought into yet.

"Hopefully they won't know," he said. "If they find out I bet I'll be in for some Bludgers myself."

"Secret's safe with me," said Sarah.

"Good to know," Draco smiled at her.

Their conversation was interrupted by Madam Pomfrey who had just bustled over to Sarah's bedside.

"It is half past five," Madam Pomfrey stated. "You may go now, Miss Garrend."

"Alright, thank you," Sarah replied.

Before leaving the bedside, Madam Pomfrey's gaze lingered for a few moments on Draco, and then on the roses resting beside Sarah's bed. She raised in eyebrow curiously and then walked away. Draco looked both slightly startled and embarrassed. Sarah knew that Madam Pomfrey's curiosity must come from the fact that an act like this was highly uncharacteristic of the young man sitting across from her, but she pretended not to notice.

Looking back to Sarah, Draco rose to his feet.

"Well, I better leave before you," he said, "Just in case."

"Good idea," said Sarah, taking the roses from the bedside table and getting to her feet as well. "Thank you so much for these, Draco. It was really nice of you to come here and see me."

Draco smiled again, looking very satisfied with himself.

"No trouble at all, I'm glad you're alright," he said politely. "I didn't want you getting the impression that all of Slytherin are a bunch of prats. Gryffindor tends to hold that mindset," he said, motioning to the scarlet and gold emblem on her robes.

"Well you've definitely sold me that at least one of them isn't," she smiled back at him.

Draco felt proud of himself. Mission accomplished.

"Nice to meet you, Sarah," he said, giving her a polite wave as he turned to leave. "I'll see you around."

"You too, Draco. See you," she waved back.

When Draco had exited the hospital wing after glancing both ways out of the door, as if he was crossing a busy street, Sarah sat back down on the edge of her bed, examining the beautiful roses that Draco had given her. Surely the whole of Gryffindor would think that the world had turned upside down. She seemed to have a knack for bringing out uncharacteristic behavior in Slytherins.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Sarah, a particular Slytherin's behavior toward her was to be the current topic of conversation back in the Gryffindor common room. Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Ron were all relaxing in front of the fire, waiting for supper time to roll around. Harry was seated in the large comfortable chair he usually sat in, Ginny in his lap, and Ron and Hermione were lounging against each other on the couch. The fire was burning brightly, helping to fend off the chill which had settled in on them over the course of a long afternoon outside.

"Blimey," Ron spoke up all of a sudden, sounding astonished as he reflected on the afternoon's events. "Did you _see_ what Professor Snape did when he came back to the pitch?"

"What did he do?" asked Ginny. "I was too busy trying to get Peakes to lend me his bat so I could hit something at the Slytherins."

"Nearly killed the whole lot of them from the looks of it," said Ron. "He stormed out there and shouted at them. I don't think I've ever seen him so furious."

Seamus, who had just come back from having a shower, overheard the conversation in front of the fire. He plunked himself down on the couch next to Ron and Hermione, his hair still slightly damp.

"Yelling at them for not hitting Sarah hard enough, do you suppose?" he said jokingly.

Ron turned to Seamus, shaking his head back and forth quickly to dispel that idea.

"No, that's what's so weird about it," Ron said quickly. "He was angry with them _because_ they hit her. He gave the bloke who did it an entire month's detention with Filch for it and threatened to do that to the lot of them if they did something like that again."

"What?" Seamus exclaimed, also sounding astonished. "We're constantly beatin' on each other, our teams are, and he's never done anything about it before. Probably encourages it, even, the git."

"Well she's not on the Gryffindor team, is she?" Ginny spoke up. "It might be a different story to him to have members of his team hitting random people on brooms with Bludgers when they're not on the opposing team."

"She's a Gryffindor, that should be good enough for him, shouldn't it?" Seamus countered, a sour expression on his face.

"I don't think so, mate," said Ron, "Did you see how fast he moved when she fell? It almost looked like he Apparated over there," he snapped his fingers once for emphasis. "Any other Gryffindor gets hurt, do you think he would have done that?"

Seamus blinked.

"Right," he said, "I wonder what made him do that. He even walked her back to the bloody castle, didn't he?" he said as it dawned on him.

Several moments of silence passed, during which all parties present who were unaware of the developing relationship between their Professor and Sarah were quietly processing the information of what they had just heard. None of it seemed to fit into a normal Gryffindor-Slytherin behavioral pattern. It wasn't quite adding up.

Harry and Hermione exchanged silent looks of concern; this situation would have to be diffused before anyone started jumping to conclusions, lest they be the correct ones.

"Look," said Hermione, speaking in her best 'I'm-extremely-serious' tone, "He probably just wanted to make sure she wasn't seriously injured. It would hurt the school's reputation as a whole if students who come here to study abroad from all over the world are getting roughed up by our Quidditch teams. As the only authority figure present when it happened, he probably could have gotten into trouble with the Headmistress if he didn't do anything for her."

Several more silent moments passed while everyone absorbed Hermione's conclusion of Snape's behavior.

"That sounds more like it," Ron said at last, "Probably just trying to make sure he doesn't get sacked."

Seamus nodded in agreement. Harry and Hermione exchanged a silent look of relief. Unfortunately, they did not notice Ginny watching their silent exchange with a raised eyebrow.

The group of friends continued relaxing together quietly in front of the fire. A short while later, Seamus had been called up to the boys dormitory by Dean for reasons unknown. The common room was mostly empty when the portrait hole swung open to reveal Sarah, looking completely unscathed from her fall earlier in the day. She looked a little dazed as she stepped into the common room, appearing to be preoccupied with examining the few long-stemmed roses she held in her hand. When she looked up, she saw her friends sitting before the fire, regarding her curiously. She smiled at them and moved over to where they sat, sitting herself down next to Ron and Hermione on the couch.

"Hey guys," she greeted them.

"See?" Ron quickly said to Hermione, motioning to Sarah. "She's just fine. Didn't I tell you? No worse for wear at all, she'll be ready to try again in no time."

Hermione rolled her eyes a little. After the incident, Harry and Ron had gotten quite a talking-to from her about what a poor idea it had been to plop Sarah atop a broom and have her learn to fly with a pack of bloodthirsty Slytherins at the other end of the pitch. Sarah saw her reaction to Ron's reassurance and laughed; she knew how much Hermione hated most anything having to do with flying.

"He's right, Hermione," she said, "I'm alright. My next flying lesson should be just fine as long as there aren't any Bludgers around."

"You can still get hurt pretty badly if you fall," Hermione cautioned her.

"So? If that happens, Madam Pomfrey will just fix her right up, no harm done," Ron contested.

Hermione rounded on Ron, shooting him a look.

"And I'm sure she could fix you right up too, Ronald, if I went and shoved you out of the window. Fancy giving it a try?" she asked.

"No thanks," Ron murmured.

"I thought not," Hermione huffed.

"Anyway," Sarah spoke up, hoping to break Ron and Hermione's bickering, "You'll never guess who brought me these," she said, raising up the roses so everyone could see them.

Harry and Hermione exchanged another look, both of them refraining from asking if it had been Snape to bring her the flowers. When they had gone to visit her with the rest of the Gryffindor team, Harry could not recall anyone having brought her roses. He couldn't fathom who else, beside Snape, might have done something like that for her.

Ron, impatient as ever, spoke up.

"Who was it, then?" he asked, oblivious as ever to the silent dialogues between Harry and Hermione.

"Draco Malfoy," Sarah stated.

"_Malfoy?_" Ron repeated incredulously. Everyone else looked equally shocked.

"He did," said Sarah. "He came to see me a little while ago in the hospital wing."

Everyone but Ron seemed to be at a loss for words.

"Wait, wait," he said. "Let me get this straight. _Malfoy_ visited you in the hospital wing, and brought you _flowers_?"

"That's right," Sarah said, nodding a couple of times at her shocked friend. She looked a little startled when Ron suddenly leaned over in her direction and appeared to be checking her eyes for abnormalities.

"Are you sure that Bludger didn't hit you in the head? Maybe we should take you back to Madam Pomfrey," he said, sounding concerned.

"I'm fine, I'm serious," said Sarah, pushing Ron away playfully. "He really did. I just _knew_ none of you would believe me about it."

"I believe you," said Hermione, pulling Ron away from Sarah. He had continued attempting to check her head for signs of trauma. "Haven't you all noticed how differently he's been acting? We haven't heard a peep out of him all year."

"You're right," said Ginny. "He's almost like a different person now."

"You think he's changed?" asked Ron, looking around at everyone's faces. "Have you forgotten about him being on You-Know-Who's side?"

"I don't think he really had much choice in the matter, Ron," said Harry. His eyes involuntarily closed as he remembered one of the vivid flashes of Voldemort's consciousness that he had experienced; a flash in which he had seen Draco being forced to torture another Death Eater. He could still clearly see the image of Draco's colorless face and fear-filled eyes. Harry could only imagine how traumatic being forced to do something like that must have been, or what else Draco may have been forced to do under Voldemort's command.

"He should be bringing _us_ flowers, then," said Ron, puffing out his chest. "We're the ones who took out You-Know-Who for him."

"Don't you think maybe that's why he doesn't bother you all anymore?" Sarah asked.

"I'm sure that's a good part of it," said Harry. "He sure does seem different now. But it's not as if we were all expecting him to visit you and bring you flowers."

"That's not all," said Sarah, "He even said that he tried to throw himself in front of the Bludger that hit me."

"_Malfoy_? Taking a hit for somebody _else_? A Gryffindor, even?" Ron blurted out. "Are you sure we're talking about the same person, here?"

"Didn't you see how he was acting before practice?" asked Hermione. Having been watching from the sidelines with Sarah as the two teams squared up against each other, she had definitely noticed how Draco appeared to be the only member of the Slytherin team who did not seem eager to fight. "He didn't look like he wanted a fight, like the rest of them did. He probably saw his teammates trying to hit Sarah and didn't want her to get hurt. Maybe he thought it would start a fight."

"It almost did," said Ginny.

"You guys can't tell anyone though," said Sarah, "He said that the rest of his House would kill him if they found out about all this."

"He's got _that_ right," said Ron.

Harry hugged the girl in his lap tightly as he thought about what Sarah had said. He knew that Draco had changed in some respects, but he had no idea of its apparent degree. Just a couple of years previously they were getting into vicious, bloody fights in the bathrooms, and now Draco was visiting people in the hospital wing and bringing them flowers. It seemed like a complete turnaround from what he had once been. Not long in the past, Draco would have probably been laughing and jeering along with his teammates. Things now were very different.

Through his terrible experiences, Draco had been forced to learn of the fragility of friendship, as well as the fragility of life itself. Surviving it all and emerging out of it only to realize one's mistaken path and complete isolation must have been a great blow to him. As Harry contemplated Draco's behavior, he correctly guessed that Draco was probably trying to start fresh with someone who had no prior knowledge of who he was and what he had done in the past.

"Did you tell him you knew about him, and knew who he was?" Harry asked.

Sarah shook her head in the negative.

"It seemed to me like he was trying to turn over a new leaf," she said quietly, looking back down at the roses in her hand. "I didn't want to ruin it for him by saying something like, 'oh, you're the jerk who tormented my friends, plotted to kill Dumbledore, and then ran off with the Death Eaters, nice to meet you'."

Ron burst out laughing, and Harry, Ginny, and Hermione could not help but smile.

"You should have," Ron said between laughs. "The prat deserves it."

"I think he's been through enough already," said Sarah, who was also smiling.

Harry, who had been just about to say something along those same lines, nodded in agreement.

"I think so too," he said.

"I'm hungry," Ron noted.

"You're always hungry," said Hermione, getting up off the couch and stretching. "But I am too, it's supper time. We should all go eat."

"Good idea," said Ginny, rising out of Harry's lap.

The small group of friends began filing out of the portrait hole, but Ginny hung back a small bit. Just as Harry was about to step through, she pulled him aside. The portrait hole closed, and Sarah, Ron, and Hermione were already out in the corridor. Harry looked startled, his eyes wide. He tilted his head slightly at his girlfriend, wondering what she was up to.

"Harry," Ginny stated flatly, "Is there something going on between Sarah and Professor Snape?"

"I don't-, I mean, I've got no clue what you're-," Harry stuttered, his eyes darting around the room and giving away his bluff. Ginny simply smirked at him and waited for a proper response. Harry swallowed hard.

"I saw the way you and Hermione were looking at each other about it," she said. "You aren't very inconspicuous. Well, at least inconspicuous enough for Ron not to notice, but I have."

Harry sighed in defeat. Ginny was too damned smart.

"What tipped you off?" he asked.

"I've seen how nervous she gets about him at dinner," Ginny replied, "Almost as nervous as I used to get about _you_, remember? When I saw him rush over to her when she fell this afternoon I knew something must be up. He doesn't do things like that for anyone. The fact that he came back and shouted at the whole Slytherin team made me a bit more curious, and when I saw the looks you and Hermione were giving each other when she explained away his behavior, I knew for sure something must be going on."

"Alright, yes, there's something going on," Harry said quickly in a hushed voice, glancing around the common room to be certain of their solitude. "But you can't tell a soul. I sort of found out on accident, and Sarah knows that I know, but I accidentally told Hermione about it, and Sarah doesn't know that _Hermione_ knows, and neither of them know that _you_ know, and-,"

Ginny cut him off.

"Slow down! I won't tell anyone," Ginny assured him. "She can trust us."

"I know she can," said Harry, "She just didn't want us all to know because she thought we might not like her anymore if we found out about it."

"Well that is a legitimate concern," laughed Ginny. "She probably knows how big of a fit Ron would pitch if he found out."

"Just don't let it get out," said Harry.

"My lips are sealed," Ginny replied, making a motion of zipping her lips shut.

"So are mine," Harry smiled slyly at her, "Around yours," he said. He then leaned into her, kissing her deeply.

The two of them were entwined for several passionate moments before they heard Ron shouting for them on the other side of the portrait. Harry withdrew from Ginny, looking toward the portrait hole.

"We'll finish this later," he said, his voice silky. He winked at her.

"He's always interrupting us," Ginny sighed in frustration, but she was still smiling.

After another quick kiss, both of them joined their waiting friends out in the corridor.

* * *

Dinner was mostly finished when a small, timid-looking first year Slytherin crept up toward the Gryffindor table where Harry and his friends were sitting. She was holding a small roll of parchment.

"Sarah?" the small girl squeaked, glancing around the table. "Sarah Garrend?"

Sarah, startled to hear her name from anyone other than her immediate friends, turned to the girl and regarded her curiously.

"That's me," Sarah said politely, smiling at the girl.

"This is for you," the girl said quickly, holding out the small piece of parchment. As soon as Sarah had taken it from her, she scurried away.

"Oh, thank...," the girl was already out of sight, "...you."

"What is it?" Harry asked casually, taking another bite of his treacle tart. Hermione was also watching Sarah curiously, as was Ginny out of the corner of her eye. Ron, who was still too absorbed in his seconds and thirds of the main course of the evening, did not notice.

"Let's see," said Sarah, unfurling the small scroll. As soon as she saw the spiky, cramped script, she immediately knew who it was from. Harry watched her as she read the note, already surmising who it must be from; Sarah's cheeks already had a bit of color in them.

_Sarah,_

_Please dress warmly for this evening's lesson._

_S.S._

"It's from Professor Snape," Sarah said quietly, careful not to accidentally refer to him by his given name in front of anyone again, as she had done with Harry. "He wants me to dress warmly for our lesson tonight."

Ron swallowed a large chunk of steak and potatoes.

"Probably extra cold down in the dungeons today," he said, before taking another scoop of potatoes.

"_Or_ he's taking her outside," said Hermione. "Does it say why?"

"Nope," said Sarah, "Just says to dress warmly. I have no idea what he's planning." She blushed and swallowed hard at her own words.

Harry, Hermione, and Ginny pretended not to notice, and Ron genuinely did not. Thank goodness for the distraction of food, Harry thought. Without it, Ron probably would have become suspicious of something by now.

After leaving the Great Hall, Sarah had to quickly make her way back up to her room in order to bundle up as Snape had requested of her. After throwing on an extra layer, as well as her Gryffindor scarf, she made her way down to the dungeons. Reaching the door to Snape's office, she took a deep breath and knocked.

"Enter," called the deep voice from within.

Sarah slowly opened the door and stepped inside. She was greeted with the sight of him standing before his desk, watching her as she entered. He was wearing his usual teaching robes, but with the addition of the same heavy traveling cloak that he had worn on their trip to Diagon Alley. Sarah's heart jumped when she remembered just how soft and warm that cloak had been when he let her borrow it, and how wonderfully it had smelled of him.

When he saw that she was dressed suitably, he nodded.

"I see you received my missive," he said. "I was a bit concerned. First years are not always the best couriers."

"I got it at dinner," said Sarah, timidly approaching him. The closer she drew to him, the more her heart quickened and the hotter she felt.

"Good. If you would follow me please," he said, motioning back toward the door she had just come through.

Sarah turned about and started heading back toward the door. Before she could reach it, Snape strode past her, opening the door for her and stepping aside.

"Thank you," she said quietly, stepping past him. When he had closed the door behind them, he strode determinedly in the direction of the spiraling staircase. Sarah hurried after him, following him upward.

Hermione had been right; he was taking her outside. Once they had exited the castle and were safely cloaked in the darkness of the evening, Snape's pace slowed down considerably to the point where it seemed that they were enjoying a leisurely walk together. It was a clear night, cold and crisp. The wind was nonexistent, and there was not a cloud in the sky. The stars above were twinkling brightly, and the world around them was silent except for their muffled footsteps on the grass as they walked along. Sarah could barely see his black-clad form in the darkness, and she found herself drawing closer to where his body heat and intoxicating scent emanated from.

"I apologize for the behavior of my team earlier today," said Snape, satisfied that the girl was already drawing closer to him. He was still frightful that the incident could result in her becoming angry with him. "I assure you that the culprit has been properly and severely dealt with."

"What did you do to him?" asked Sarah, sounding surprised. She was completely unaware of how he had returned to the pitch after seeing her to the hospital wing, and how he had raged at the Slytherin team and handed out quite a punishment.

"I gave him a month's very unpleasant detention," he stated simply, not bothering to explain all of the dreadful things that Filch would probably subject his victim to. "Behavior like that is not to be tolerated."

"I thought behavior like that was _always_ tolerated between Gryffindor and Slytherin," said Sarah, looking up at him. He was looking straight ahead into the darkness.

"Not in this case," he said stubbornly.

"Just because it was me, or just because I'm not really a Gryffindor?" Sarah asked, smiling. The fact that he had severely punished the person who had hit the Bludger at her was somehow heartwarming.

"A bit of both," he admitted stiffly, still staring straight ahead and not daring to look down into the girl's smiling face, lest he be lost. Sarah laughed softly beside him.

"So where are we going?" Sarah asked, looking ahead into the darkness. She knew the castle's grounds well enough now to be able to get herself to Hagrid's or to the Quidditch pitch, but she could not tell where she was going without daylight.

"You shall see when we get there," Snape replied.

After only a minute or two, they arrived at their destination. They were at the Quidditch pitch.

"Why are we at the pitch?" Sarah asked loudly, her voice echoing through the empty field. The moon had risen higher in the sky, and she could now see better by its dim light. Snape was standing several yards away from her, facing her, his arms folded behind his back.

"I was observing you this afternoon while Potter attempted to give you a flying lesson," he told her. "Needless to say it did not turn out very well. Because of this, I felt obligated to give you a sort of flying lesson of my own. I daresay you will learn a great deal more from me than you will from Potter."

"But Potter-, I mean, Harry is a great Quidditch player, I'm sure he could teach me how to fly just fine," Sarah argued.

"Not like I can," Snape said confidently, smirking at her.

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked, stepping closer to him.

"Please come here, close to me," he instructed her, his voice a purr. Sarah timidly approached him. "Wrap your arms about my neck and hold on tight."

Sarah swallowed hard and did as she was instructed, wrapping her arms about his neck. As soon as she had, Snape wrapped his left arm around her body, holding her securely to him. Before Sarah could ask what he was going to do, he made a fluid motion with his right arm. In one sweep, his wand was out of his robes, and his spell was cast. Sarah gasped audibly when she felt them lift off of the ground and into the air, and she clung even tighter to him. He clung even tighter to her as well.

"What are we doing?" Sarah yelled, more than a little frightened with the sudden turn of events.

"Flying," he spoke simply, smiling inwardly at the girl's astonishment.

Together they soared easily around the pitch, Snape's robes and cloak billowing in the chilly evening air. When he slowly descended toward the ground and set them down again, the girl was still clinging tightly to him. After a few moments, when she finally realized that they were on solid ground, she unlocked her arms from his neck and stepped back from him, her mouth agape.

"You can fly without a broom," she said to him. She knew that flight was possible through the use of brooms, but she had never stopped to think that perhaps magic alone could make someone fly. If this had been the case, she probably would have seen people flying about everywhere instead of walking, but she had not.

"Yes," Snape replied. "I'm sure you can already tell that this is not a very common skill among witches and wizards."

"How do you know how, then?" Sarah asked.

Snape took a deep breath.

"It is, I am ashamed to say, something I learned from the Dark Lord," he admitted. "It was a skill of his that he coveted highly. As he thought I was his most trusted and worthy servant, he deemed it acceptable for me to learn, and taught me. To this day, if anyone else still living knows this skill, I am unaware of it."

"You're the only one who knows how?" asked Sarah, sounding floored.

"For the time being," Snape replied.

"Are you ever going to teach anyone else?" Sarah persisted.

"That, I believe, is why we are here," said Snape.

Sarah blinked at him, uncomprehending at first.

"What?" she asked, confused. "You want to teach _me?_ I don't think I can-, I mean, I barely know how to fly a-,"

"Nonsense," Snape interrupted her. "You have already shown yourself to have quite the aptitude for magical learning. I admit this is very advanced magic, but the sooner you begin learning it, the more time you will have to practice."

"Are you sure about this?" Sarah pressed. "Knowing me I'll probably just end up hurting myself, or you-,"

"No one is going to get hurt. Now, do you want to try and learn this, or not?" he asked her. He was determined to eliminate the need for Potter to teach her to fly on a broom. She would not need Potter and his little brooms if she could learn this skill from him.

Sarah regarded him silently for a few moments, her thoughts racing. This certainly seemed dangerous, and it would be very advanced magic. She took a deep breath. She would just have to trust him that he wouldn't let her get hurt, and she did trust him. She decided she would try.

"Alright," she said at last. "What do I have to do?"

"First, take out your wand," Snape instructed her. "You will need to learn the verbal incantation. We will not move on to nonverbal spells for quite some time, so it would not do to have you start learning nonverbal casting on something this advanced and difficult."

Sarah drew her wand out from inside her robes and held it tightly in her right hand, looking back up at Snape and waiting for further instruction.

"The verbal incantation is pronounced _Volo Absque Alatus_," he said, careful to annunciate very clearly. "Watch."

Sarah watched him intently. Very slowly, he demonstrated the movement that she would need to make with her wand. His wand began at a point out to his left side, and he swept it down across his body in a downward arc ending with the wand pointing down at his right side. He repeated the movement several times.

"_Volo Absque Alatus_," Sarah whispered to herself as she watched her Professor demonstrating the proper wand pattern, trying to memorize the words as well as the movement.

"Now you try," he nodded at her.

Taking another deep breath, Sarah steadied herself.

"_Volo Absque Alatus!_" she shouted, sweeping her wand in the downward arc. What happened next was probably just about what she had been expecting to happen all along; she suddenly felt as if she had been hit by another Bludger and knocked off of a broom once again. She felt some powerful invisible force collide with her, knocking the air out of her lungs. She was lifted up off of her feet and thrown back a small distance, landing hard on the cold grass.

She groaned and coughed, and Snape strode over to her side as she stirred.

"I thought you said no one was going to get hurt," she groused at him. He smirked and extended his hand toward her to help her up.

"You are fine," he said. When she took his hand, he pulled her to her feet and dusted her off. "I actually had a similar reaction on my first attempt, and I quickly learned that shouting the incantation is not necessary, and that the wand movement needs to be graceful rather than forceful. Try again with that knowledge."

Once Snape had stepped away from her again, she raised her wand.

"_Volo Absque Alatus_," she said calmly, sweeping her wand through the arc more slowly and smoothly. She immediately felt the same strange invisible force swirling and pooling around her in torrents instead of slamming into her. Even though she could feel its presence, she still lacked the skill to completely control it as Snape had. When she felt it beginning to dissipate, she clenched her teeth and furrowed her brow, focusing as hard as she could. This caused the invisible force to surge back, unexpectedly lifting her several inches off of the ground. Surprised at her momentary success, Sarah broke focus and was dropped back to the ground where she stumbled and fell.

"Very good. Progress already, you see? I told you that you could do it," said Snape, stepping forward to offer her his hand again. He helped her back onto her feet.

For the duration of the lesson, Sarah continued practicing the difficult spell under Snape's tutelage. It was immensely difficult to control, and Sarah had more than a few falls. Despite this, she did not get seriously hurt, as per Snape's promise. She continued patiently practicing, falling to the ground again and again.

Her last attempt of the evening was hugely successful. Sarah managed to get herself several feet off of the ground, even though she could not move any other way directionally quite yet. Snape was so pleased with her progress that he could not help himself when the side of his lips twitched into a tiny smile. Upon seeing this, Sarah's heart jumped and she lost her focus. Before she could fall to the ground, Snape rushed forward to catch her. Catching her in his arms, he too lost his balance, causing both of them to tumble onto the cold grass. The next thing Sarah knew, she was lying on her back with Snape atop her, and the cold grass beneath her suddenly seemed to heat up. Both of their chests were heaving.

"Are you alright?" Snape asked her softly, scanning her eyes for any apparent discomfort.

"I'm fine," Sarah replied, her voice a whisper, "You?"

"Perfect," he breathed, lowering himself even closer to her. This newfound position was fast becoming irresistible.

Sarah felt her heart beating impossibly fast as he drew closer to her. She was now completely unaware of the fact that they were outdoors in the cold night air, in full view of the entire Quidditch pitch. After several more moments of agonizing closeness, Snape could no longer resist. He lowered himself to be flush with her and captured her lips with his own.

As soon as his tongue met hers, she arched up into him, bringing their hips into close contact. She sighed softly when she felt the building heat there. In response, he pushed his hips down hard into hers and was rewarded with another soft sigh. How easily and quickly he could make this attractive young witch overflow with desire for him, it seemed. While he deepened their kiss, his left hand found its way to her chest where he began gently caressing her breasts.

Ages might have passed while they lay there together, deeply kissing and caressing each other's bodies, and they would not have noticed. Snape was brought part way back to reality when he felt a hand on the huge bulge on his trousers.

"I want you," the girl underneath him whispered. With her hand squeezing his manhood, he could not easily mistake what she meant.

After giving her another deep kiss, he raised himself up and got to his feet, holding his hand out to her. Together they made their way back up to the castle at a very quick pace. Once inside, Snape had to greatly resist the urge to simply turn her into a darkened corner of some empty corridor and take her in whatever manner he pleased. Reaching the door to his office, he practically wrenched it open and followed her inside once she had passed. Desire overcoming him, he took a hold of her wrist and tugged her along with him as he dragged her back into his private quarters, into the room where his bed lay. Overcome with her own desire, she did not protest.

* * *

Many hours later, as he gently pushed a few strands of hair out of the sleeping girl's face, he sincerely hoped that he had managed to make up for her unpleasant afternoon.


	18. Portraits of the Past

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 18: Portraits of the Past, and Planning for the Future.

* * *

It was some time later when consciousness finally revisited her. Shifting slightly, she found that she was now comfortably tucked into the bedclothes. It was luxuriously soft and warm, and there seemed to be a source of heat which emanated from somewhere beside her. Part of this wonderful heat was gently draped over her form. Taking in a deep breath, she already knew what it was; his scent was everywhere, filling her with comfort and a wonderful sense of well-being. When her eyelids fluttered open, by the dim light of the lowly-burning fire, she could see Snape beside her, seemingly asleep, with his arm draped over her.

Slowly and carefully, as not to disturb his rest, she took his arm and set it on the mattress beside him. For a few moments she was quite still, making sure she had not woken him. When he did not move or open his eyes, she sat up. She was still nude, but she could see that all of her clothes were neatly folded and set at the foot of the bed. Her eyes moved from her clothing to rest on Snape again. She regarded him thoughtfully. His breathing was slow, deep, and even. She had never seen him asleep before. He looked more peaceful and content than she had ever seen him while awake.

Still careful to move slowly and quietly, she shifted out of the bed and dressed herself. A small smile crossed her lips as she did, marveling at how this usually sour and strict man had taken such care not only to tuck her into bed with him, but to meticulously fold her clothing for her as well. Even though it was slightly chilly outside of the protectively warm bedclothes, she felt warm inside. He treated her with such gentleness and tenderness that she had never known before, in a manner that seemed ridiculously unlikely to ever come from him based on his usual outward demeanor.

When she was fully dressed, she leaned against one of the bedposts and looked down upon Snape again. He was still asleep and hadn't seemed to take notice in the slightest that the bed's other occupant was gone. Sarah had no idea how long they had been asleep, but knew that if he were awake, he would probably suggest she leave. She sighed softly to herself. Part of this saddened her; she would like nothing more than to spend the night down here with him. Still, she knew that caution should not be thrown to the wind. If someone came to call in the morning and she were seen emerging from his quarters in the same clothes that she had worn the previous day, it would certainly raise unwanted suspicion.

For a few moments she stood there, silently watching him sleep. Inside her head, she was debating about whether or not to wake him in order to tell him she was leaving. If he were to wake up and find her gone without any explanation, he might incorrectly assume that she had desired to leave and ran off at first chance. Watching him rest so peacefully, however, she resolved that she couldn't possibly wake him from his rest when he looked so content. Instead, she decided, she would leave a note explaining that she had awoken before him, would love to have stayed, but took cue from his own suggestion and left in order to avoid suspicion. As quietly as she could, she left his bedroom and entered the adjoining study.

Luckily, upon the desk, she immediately found a couple pieces of blank parchment. She spent a few moments pulling open drawers in search of a pen before realizing that she would find no such thing here. Smirking, she eyed the long-feathered quill resting in an inkwell atop the desk, near where she had found the blank parchment. She was used to neatly-writing ballpoint pens and other modern writing utensils. Extending her hand toward the quill, she carefully lifted it out of the inkwell and inspected its tip with raised eyebrows. _Well,_ she thought to herself, _If I'm going to be a witch, I guess I'm going to have to learn to write with one of these sooner or later._

It took several minutes, several inky fingertips, and a piece of scratch parchment before she was proficient with quill-writing. So far she hadn't missed anything whatsoever about the Muggle world, or even thought of it much at all since arriving here. Indeed, magic had made all of the technological conveniences of the Muggle world seem a bit superfluous. After scribing her note to Snape, however, she realized that she greatly preferred Muggle pens to this whole ink-and-feather affair. She would just have to get used to it. Neatly replacing the quill in the inkwell, she took her note and quietly re-entered the bedroom.

Snape was still sleeping peacefully, it seemed. He hadn't moved since she left the bed. She smiled softly to herself again and could not help but watch him in his rest for a few more moments. Scanning the room, she scouted for an appropriate place to leave her note. He would most certainly find it if she were to leave it on the pillow beside him, but she did not want to risk getting close to him again and disturbing his rest. Instead, her eyes fell upon the wardrobe. That would be a good place to leave it, she thought. After all, he would have to be getting himself dressed as well sooner or later.

She approached the wardrobe and set her note down atop it. She was in the middle of turning to leave when she noticed that her note was not the only piece of parchment which was now resting on the wardrobe. Doing a bit of a double-take, she turned back to examine the wardrobe's surface. Next to where she had placed her note was another bit of parchment, as well as what appeared to be a torn photograph resting on top of it. Interest piqued, she turned to glance at Snape once more. He was apparently still asleep. She turned back to the wardrobe and picked up the small page of parchment next to her note. There was barely any writing on it, and she had to squint and bring it close to her eyes in order to read it by the dim light of the fire.

_could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald! I think her mind's going, personally!_

_Lots of love,  
Lily_

Sarah raised her eyebrows curiously. The note's contents made little sense to her. Even though Harry had told her briefly of the friendship between Dumbledore and Grindelwald in the scope of his own story, without the rest of the letter, Sarah had no idea what or who it was possibly referring to, or whose mind was 'going'. The name Lily was unfamiliar to her as well; in Harry's story, he had always referred to Lily as 'my mum' or some other such label, never actually mentioning her by name out of habit, so Sarah had no way of knowing who the name belonged to.

_Lily_. Sarah's eyes, which had previously been wide with curiosity, narrowed. Deep inside of her, she felt an intense pang of jealousy. Who the hell was Lily? She glanced back at Snape again, but he was still unmoving. She suddenly felt extremely jealous and territorial in a way that she had never felt before. She felt an intense desire to crumple up the small note and toss it away, but she resisted the urge. If it were resting pristine and untouched upon his wardrobe, it must be important to him in some way.

Sighing, she turned back to the wardrobe and set down Lily's note. Eager for more information, she immediately picked up the small photograph which had been lying atop it. It appeared to be torn and missing a large portion of its original form. Sarah scanned the wardrobe's surface quickly to be sure she hadn't overlooked the missing piece, but there was nothing else. She squinted and brought the torn photograph close to her eyes, but she could not make it out adequately in the lack of light. Glancing quickly to Snape again, who was still apparently asleep, she moved closer to the fire beside the bed. There, she examined the photograph in the greater light.

She was slightly startled at first when she saw that the woman in the photograph was moving, but was not very surprised. She had already seen the castle's portraits and how they could move and talk, and even the moving pictures on _The Daily Prophet_ when Harry had shown her the story that they had produced. She had not, however, seen an ordinary Wizarding photograph on its own before, and at first glance, it had appeared to be just a normal photograph to her.

The woman in the photograph was smiling and laughing, silently waving up at her. Sarah's brows furrowed as she examined the woman. She had long, bright red hair and a very pretty face. She quirked a brow as she examined the woman's eyes; they were bright green, almond-shaped, and strikingly familiar. Then, Sarah's own eyes widened in realization, and she hurried back over to the wardrobe and glanced again at the signature scrawled at the bottom of the note. _Lily_.

_Lily_, she thought to herself, eyes wide. _This must be-_

"Please be careful with that," spoke a soft, deep voice from behind her.

Sarah gasped sharply and jumped, dropping the photograph of Harry's mother back onto the part of the note which it accompanied. She turned around to face Snape, who was now sitting up in bed watching her, his bare upper body visible. Her heart was racing. She had thought him to be soundly asleep, and she hadn't heard him move at all. She was now terrified that she would be thrown out of his quarters, that he would be furious with her for going through his things while he slept. She hadn't really gone through anything, really, she quickly rationalized inside her racing mind. They had just been lying there in plain sight.

"What are you doing?" he asked her softly. There was no accusation or anger in his voice, and his expression was soft, almost as soft as it had been while he slept. The girl cleared her throat, evidently nervous. He hadn't expected her to be fully dressed and inspecting the items atop his wardrobe when he awoke.

"I was just-," she stammered, but realizing she sounded nervous, she paused and took a deep, calming breath. "I was just leaving you a note," she explained. "I knew I should probably be getting back to my room so I don't raise suspicion, but I didn't want you to think that I ran off or anything like that..." she trailed off quietly.

"Why didn't you just wake me then, you silly girl?" he asked, a pleasant tone of amusement in his voice.

"I didn't want to," Sarah responded, her voice almost a whisper, "You looked so... content."

Snape tilted his head at the girl.

"I certainly was," he admitted, "But that quickly changed when the source of my contentment vacated the bed."

He had risked complimenting her in his own roundabout way. He could not see well enough in the dim light to tell for sure, but he was certain that the girl was blushing profusely. Pleased with himself, the corners of his lips twitched.

"I'm sorry," she supplied.

"No need to apologize," he assured her. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood. When the blankets slid off of him, Sarah was relieved to see that he was back in his boxers. She was already blushing enough; she did not need her face to catch fire.

He approached her slowly. She looked up at him, still slightly nervous about what he might say or do. As far as she knew, he should have no idea that she had heard the story of Harry's mother, including the most important parts which happened to involved him. He should have no idea that she had figured out who the note was from, and who was in the photograph. She had, however, let on that she knew more than he had told her by knowing Voldemort's name other than just 'The Dark Lord' phrase. She found herself staring at his bare chest as her mind raced, but she soon felt warm, gentle fingers tilting her head upward to look at him.

Snape looked down into the girl's artificially dark brown eyes, resisting the urge to probe their depths with his mind. He knew she had been looking at his photograph of Lily, and he could only imagine that she had seen the note as well. He wondered how much she knew, and wondered if she had known the woman's identity. He kept that part of his life a secret from everyone. The only other living being who should know is Potter, and he never would have given up those memories if he had not thought himself to be seconds from death.

As he looked down at the girl, he realized that it didn't matter. It didn't matter if the girl knew that part of his past or not. It was no mystery to her that he could love, and that he could be tender and kind and caring when so many people thought him incapable of it. He had always felt as if his love for Lily had been a vulnerability, an admittance to having feelings and having a heart, when this was so contrary to the front he desired to put up for the world at all times. This was part of the reason, aside from Potter, that he had guarded the secret so fiercely. This girl had created her own vulnerability in him; one that, by now, she was fully aware of. She knew he had feelings. She knew he had a heart. It was of little consequence of she knew of his past feelings for Lily; they were the same feelings that he was showing her here and now.

"Well," he said at last, after the girl had continued silently staring up at him for some time, "Now I know that you are leaving, and that you are not _running off or anything like that_." He imitated her words, a tone of amusement still in his voice. The corners of his lips twitched again.

Relieved, Sarah realized she had been holding her breath, and exhaled. She then returned his tiny smile. Raising herself up on her tiptoes, she gave him a sweet, chaste kiss. When she drew back from him, she smiled up at him again.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she told him.

He nodded once, the corners of his lips still slightly crooked.

"Good night," he said, unable to resist the urge of leaning down and returning her kiss. When he straightened up again, she was still smiling.

After the girl had left, Snape was still standing before the wardrobe. He examined the torn photograph and the small note for what must have been the millionth time. The wardrobe now had a new resident, however. He examined Sarah's note, smirking amusedly at the many ink smudges and its general messiness. He realized she had probably never written with a quill before. The note explained just what she had explained herself; she would liked to have stayed but thought it best to leave, and didn't have the heart to wake him. The one part of the letter that she had managed to make out very neatly was the place where she had signed her name.

_Love,  
Sarah_

He examined it side-by-side with Lily's letter. In truth, he would always love Lily. Sarah's letter, however, had something that Lily's did not; this time, the love in the letter was for _him_, and him alone. Opening the wardrobe, he carefully placed Lily's letter and the torn photograph inside. He would keep them always, but it was time for a new letter to sit atop his wardrobe.

* * *

Sarah was on her way back to the seventh floor corridor. She knew it must be very late; there was barely any light to be had in any of the corridors through which she passed, and everything was silent about her. At first, she resolved to not use her wandlight in order to not draw any attention to herself, but this idea quickly changed after she noisily bumped into a suit of armor. Cursing softly, she simultaneously rubbed a quickly-forming bump on her head and drew her wand out from inside her robes.

"_Lumos,_" she whispered. Her wand immediately illuminated, filling the immediate area around her with bright, white light.

She continued on up toward her room, walking as quietly as possible, and letting her wand hang casually at her side, pointed at the ground. This way, it illuminated the area around her and gave her enough light not to bump into anything, and it would not reach the end of the corridor long before she did. It probably wouldn't be best to shine it straight out like some kind of spotlight and alert anyone ahead of her presence. Some of the portraits shifted in their frames and glared at her as she passed, mumbling quietly to themselves.

When she had almost reached the seventh floor corridor, she nearly had a heart attack. Out of nowhere, from behind her, there came a loud hiss. Gasping, Sarah wheeled about, her wand pointed in the direction of the noise. Instead of finding someone following her as she expected, there was nothing but empty corridor.

There came another hiss, and Sarah's eyes trailed downward. On the stone floor stood a strange-looking cat with lamp-like yellow eyes. Its fangs were bared, its back was arched, and it hissed again. It continued hissing nastily, apparently unappreciative of the spotlight now being shone on it, and the cat looked very much like it would probably claw at anything within reach if Sarah stood but a few feet closer.

Sarah exhaled. She had been greatly startled, but it was only a cat. She lowered her wand and began turning back around when she was given an even greater shock.

"Student out of bed!" snapped a rasping voice.

Sarah wheeled around again, her wand raised. Approaching from the corridor behind the cat was a man with a stooped posture and a limping gait. His hair was long, thin, and scraggly, and his face bore even more wrinkles than normal as he glowered at the girl standing before him with his pale eyes.

"Student out of bed!" he repeated, panting and wheezing slightly as he came to a halt behind the cat. He must have hurried extremely fast to get here. "I'll thank you to lower your wand and not shine that light straight at me, girl!"

Sarah's eyes were wide with fear and astonishment; she had never seen Filch before and had no idea what she was dealing with. She immediately jerked her arm, lowering her wand.

"I'm sorry, I was just-,"

"Do you have any idea how late it is?" Filch cut her off. "You are out _well_ past curfew, this is a major infraction! Just where do you think you're going, anyway?"

For a few seconds, Sarah stammered to explain that she was just headed back to her room, gesturing in its general direction and causing her wandlight to shine erratically through the corridor. Several portraits grumbled loudly, and Filch continued glowering at her, not listening. The cat, now weaving herself sinuously through her master's ankles, hissed again.

"That's enough!" Filch interjected, limping forward with surprising speed toward a startled Sarah. He grabbed her roughly by the wrist and began dragging her in the opposite direction back down the corridor.

"I'm taking you straight to the Headmistress, I'm sure she'll love to hear all about whatever trouble you were up to!" he wheezed.

Sarah did not protest physically, but continued fruitlessly attempting to explain herself. The unpleasant old man seemed not to hear her, grumbling angrily to himself as he dragged her along toward the Headmaster's tower. Unable to punish as frequently as he had been able to while the Carrows had control of the school, Filch had been in overdrive lately, suffering from a sort of punishment withdrawal. He would constantly patrol the corridors on the lookout for misbehaving students, and on the occasions when he happened to find one, that student was sure to suffer tenfold.

Although she did not know it, Sarah had been extremely fortunate to have not encountered him yet. If Snape were to explain what a _'month's very unpleasant detention'_ was, she might understand now.

The cat, Sarah saw, was following at their heels. Somehow, the cat's yellow eyes seemed to be filled with gloating upon Sarah's misfortune. With a flick of her wrist, Sarah extinguished her wandlight in an annoyed fashion and shoved her wand back inside her robes.

They seemed to reach a dead end at the end of a long corridor. There was a gargoyle standing there, and to Sarah's surprise, when Filch mentioned cockroach clusters, the gargoyle leapt aside to reveal an archway. Inside, a spiral staircase was now snaking its way upward by itself. Filch dragged her inside without hesitating, climbing the ascending stairs with the girl in tow. Reaching the top, he noisily pushed open a wooden door and flung Sarah inside. Not bothering to shut the door behind them, he began storming off toward another staircase visible in the back of the large room. The cat trotted easily along behind him.

"You just wait here!" he grumbled at her. He continued grumbling as he disappeared from sight, and Sarah could only make out the words 'Headmistress' and 'expelled' here and there.

Sarah sighed, rubbing her wrist where Filch had grabbed her. After the slight discomfort had subsided, her eyes widened as she took stock of the amazing room around her.

Even though it was late at night, the room was dimly illuminated by moonlight shining in from several tall windows. The room was mostly circular in shape, and its walls were lined with glass display cases, all stuffed with amazingly intricate-looking instruments, the functions of which Sarah could not even possibly guess. Glancing upward, she could see that the wall overhead was lined with portraits, their occupants snoozing soundly, apparently having taken no notice of the late-night intrusion of the Headmaster's tower.

Turning around, she now faced a large desk, behind which sat a large, tall-backed chair. Her eyes followed its lines upward until she found herself looking at a large portrait resting above the desk. An old man with a long silver beard and piercing blue eyes was smiling serenely down at her. As she gazed up at him, she had the curious feeling that she was somehow being x-rayed with these eyes. The man's friendly smile was contagious, and she seemed unable to help herself in smiling back up at him sincerely before continuing to examine everything else about the room.

As she turned away, she did not see the old man's smiling expression change into one of concern as he examined her. He did not recognize her, and this was odd. He hadn't died _that_ long ago, after all. He would still recognize all of his school's students that had been there prior to his death. Only one full school year, (if that particular year could even be called as such), had elapsed since then, and a second one had just begun. This girl in the Gryffindor robes, however, appeared too old to be a first or second year student by far. He _should_ recognize her, and yet, her face was completely unfamiliar to him. He continued to examine her as she inspected his former office.

Suddenly the room lit itself, and there were raised voices entering from the Headmaster's quarters. Sarah could not understand what they were saying as they continued shouting over one another. Soon, she saw Filch hobbling back down the staircase, and Professor McGonagall, dressed in a tartan dressing gown similar to the one Sarah had first seen her in, was trailing behind him.

"See, Headmistress?" Filch spat, grabbing Sarah by an arm and pushing her closer to Professor McGonagall. "Caught this one out of bed at this late hour, who knows what she could have been up to!"

Professor McGonagall's green eyes widened when they fell upon Sarah, who looked equally distressed. Sarah immediately began rattling off about how her lesson had run late and she was just on her way back to her room when she had been apprehended. Filch continued mumbling away accusations beside her, but Professor McGonagall seemed focused on Sarah's explanation, and absorbed enough of it to understand that she hadn't been up to anything sinister. Her eyes narrowed as they shifted from Sarah to Filch, who fell silent.

"Go back to your prowling, Filch," she said sternly. "This girl isn't in any trouble."

Filch looked shocked.

"She was out of bed, she-!" he stammered, trying to explain again as if Professor McGonagall did not understand the grave crime that the girl had committed.

"I am aware she was out of bed," McGonagall continued impatiently, "And she had a perfectly legitimate reason to be. I can only assume that you did not stop to listen to her properly before dragging her up here to me. And now _I_ am out of bed, Filch, and I am none too pleased with it." She glared at him.

Defeated, Filch unhanded Sarah and stalked out of the door, the cat trailing after him. Neither Sarah or McGonagall missed his mumbled obscenities as he left.

"And I'll be changing the password after tonight!" McGonagall shouted after him. There came a louder obscenity from the bottom of the spiral staircase.

Sarah exhaled, relaxing.

"Thank you, Professor," she said sincerely, giving the older woman an extremely grateful look. Neither one of them saw as the old man in the portrait behind the desk raised his eyebrows interestedly now that he could clearly hear the girl's speaking voice.

"I am to assume that you were really doing as you said, and not up to any wrongdoing?" McGonagall asked, though her tone was light and almost amused.

Sarah nodded vigorously.

"I was just on my way back to my room, we didn't realize what time it was," she said truthfully. It was, after all, the truth. Track of time _had_ been lost, but the condition in which it had been lost need not be explained.

Professor McGonagall gave Sarah a small smile.

"Very well," she nodded. "I just had to ask. Your friend Potter has a history."

Sarah laughed a little, fully aware of Harry's history of copious rule-breaking.

"Get yourself to bed, then," McGonagall continued, giving Sarah a nod, "I will be doing the same myself, after changing the password of course. I won't be needing any more late-night visits from that man."

"Thanks again, Professor," Sarah said, and returned the older woman's nod in a small bow of gratitude. She then hurried out of the office.

Before Professor McGonagall could wave her wand to extinguish the room's lights once again, a soft, kind voice spoke to her from above the desk.

"A new student, Minerva?" asked Dumbledore from his portrait.

Minerva looked up, slightly startled, to see Albus Dumbledore smiling down at her from his portrait above the desk. She smiled back up at him.

"Of a sort," she said.

Dumbledore tilted his head curiously.

"I'll explain in the morning," said McGonagall. With a yawn, she extinguished the room's lights. After changing the tower's password to 'irksome interloper', an unusual but highly overdue departure from the usual sweet-related passwords, she headed back up to bed.

* * *

The following day, whenever Sarah went anywhere, she proceeded with extreme caution as she moved about the corridors. Even in broad daylight, when she knew it couldn't possibly be against any rules for her to be out and about, she walked as carefully and as quietly as she had in the dead of night. She was not keen on running into Filch again. Although, judging from the reception Filch had received from Professor McGonagall, Sarah had the impression that the man would probably not risk bothering her again. Still, she did not wish to find out. After carefully making her way up to her room early in the afternoon, she settled in to read.

She had just come from visiting in the Gryffindor common room and having lunch in the Great Hall. At first, she had been eager to tell her friends of her late-night encounter with the school's bitter and unpleasant caretaker. At further thought, however, she realized that she would then have to explain why exactly she was on her way back to her room from the dungeons in the middle of the night. She decided to keep her mouth shut about it.

Now she was sitting in her bed reading Hermione's copy of _The Daily Prophet_. Hermione, having already finished it, had allowed to her to keep it. After her first exposure to the publication, Sarah found herself wanting to read it more and more. She had never been one to read the Muggle newspapers before she had arrived here, but she found the Wizarding news fascinating. As she unfolded the paper, she was thinking that she would have to get herself an owl and her own subscription.

She was disappointed when her eyes fell upon the headlines on the front page. She had been hoping that, by now, nothing about their exploits at the Ministry would still be in the news. She sighed as she perused the headline.

_**SHACKLEBOLT'S AUTHORITY AGAIN CHALLENGED IN LIGHT OF MINISTRY BREAK-IN**_

_Pius Thicknesse, former Minister for Magic and again Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, points to Kinglsey Shacklebolt's regime as the source of weakness which allowed a break-in at the Obliviator Headquarters on Sunday, and calls for a swift change in policy._

_"This is what we get when we put a mere Auror in charge," says Thicknesse at a Ministry press conference earlier today. "Security under the old regime was airtight. Under this new regime, all of our most sensitive information seems to be in jeopardy. Ministry security should be top priority, and I intended to use the full strength of my Department to make it so, regardless of Shacklebolt's opinions. We do not need another period of turmoil brought about by a weak Ministry."_

Sarah snorted to herself as she read. From what Harry had told her, she knew that this "old regime" was really _Voldemort's_ regime, and security hadn't exactly been 'airtight' based on Harry's other Ministry invasion debacle. She read on.

_Minister Shacklebolt declined to comment on the accusations, and has generally ignored Thicknesse's numerous attacks on him and his policies._

Sarah didn't come anywhere close to reaching the bottom of the article. After only a few moments of reading, there came a soft knock on the door. She quickly folded up the _Prophet_ and tossed it aside. When she reached the door and opened it, she discovered Harry standing in the corridor outside, when she had only left his company a scant few minutes ago.

"Harry, what's up? I thought you had class," said Sarah, looking at Harry confusedly.

Harry smirked.

"I do," he admitted. After Sarah stepped aside for him, he entered the room and watched as she closed the door behind him.

"Then you're ditching it?" asked Sarah, sounding surprised. She had ditched her fair share of classes in Muggle schools, but couldn't imagine why anyone would possibly want to ditch any classes at Hogwarts.

"A few minutes of it, at least. I wanted to talk to you," Harry explained.

"We were just talking at lunch," said Sarah, still sounding confused. She moved to sit on the edge of her bed, facing the middle of the room where Harry stood.

"I know," said Harry quickly. "I wanted to talk to you about our plan. I couldn't very well bring up our idea to break into Gringotts again with everyone else around."

Sarah shifted uneasily on the bed's edge.

"I didn't really think we _had_ a plan, Harry," she said.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," he replied. "I've been thinking."

Sarah's eyes widened. She could definitely see how Harry's mind went into overdrive when there was mischief and planning afoot. As for herself, she hadn't given much extra thought to the daunting task they had agreed to after the initial conversation about it. Harry, on the other hand, was apparently already scheming for it.

"What about?" asked Sarah.

Harry took a deep breath, making sure he had everything straight inside his head before he would begin explaining it.

"Alright," he began, "Breaking into Gringotts isn't easy, but I think we can do it similar to how I did it last time, and I've still got our same ticket inside."

Sarah blinked at him, urging him to continue.

"The sword," he stated simply.

"Of Gryffindor?" Sarah asked, sounding surprised. She had never actually seen it herself, but had heard it described in grandeur by Harry when he told her of his basilisk and Horcrux-slaying exploits with it. She heard how it had finally been used to slay the great snake after once again being pulled out of the Sorting Hat, but had never bothered to ask what had become of it after that.

"You've still got it?" she asked.

Harry nodded.

"I've got it," he affirmed. "Neville gave it back to me after everything was over, since he knew Dumbledore left it to me in his will. It's been at Grimmauld Place ever since, just sitting there."

"But I thought you promised it to that goblin for helping you get inside Gringotts," Sarah pressed.

"I did," Harry admitted, "But it came back to me, didn't it? Neville pulled it out of the hat and gave it back to me. Griphook wouldn't dare come to me and claim it, or he would be openly admitting to the part he played in the break-in. He managed to cover himself and he's still working at the bank. If the other goblins ever found out, they'd disown him, or worse."

"You would offer him the sword again?" asked Sarah, shifting uneasily again on the edge of the bed. The prospect of dealing with goblins was intimidating.

Harry nodded again.

"He probably reckons it's already his," he continued, "But I would offer it to him again, no strings attached. Odds are no one is going to need to be pulling it out of the Sorting Hat again anytime in the near future."

Harry then stood silent, watching Sarah, and searching for her reaction to his plan. She looked back at him with a mix of concern and apprehension.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked.

Harry gave another nod.

"Absolutely sure," he stated firmly. "It might take some tough convincing on our part to get him to agree to it, but if he does, it should be relatively easy from there on out."

"_Easy_?" Sarah repeated sarcastically. "Harry, we're talking about breaking into a _bank_ here, I would hardly call that _easy_."

"Well it should be much easier than last time, at any rate," Harry reasoned. "Last time they sort of _knew_ we were breaking in before we actually got down there to start searching for what we wanted. This time, I don't think there will be a swarm of security goblins coming down after us. I'm not a wanted criminal anymore; there won't be anything suspicious about me wanting to visit my vault. We can plan the rest from there."

Sarah narrowed her eyes in thought; she could see where Harry's reasoning was going. If the plan was to work, they would probably go down into the bank under the guise of visiting Harry's vault. Once there, they would then proceed to the vault they were actually interested in. She didn't know much about the bank's inner workings, but Harry's reasoning seemed sound. Once they were inside, things shouldn't be too difficult. Relatively speaking, of course. Breaking into a bank, especially if that bank was Gringotts, was no small task.

"Alright," Sarah said at last. "But I want some time, Harry. I don't want to be doing this tomorrow. I want some time to get up to scratch as a witch before doing something like this again. There's so much I need to learn."

Harry nodded. He could agree with this. If anything went terribly wrong, they would probably end up needing to fight their way out, or make their own way out, and that could take some pretty complex magic. As far as he knew, there might also be Ministry security protecting their target vault at the present moment in addition to the normal protection that Gringotts offers. Some people lost a small deal of confidence in the bank after the recent break-in.

"That's fine," he told her, "And that's probably better for us, too. The longer it's in there, the longer we have for people to forget about it and to stop talking about it. If Gringotts has a break-in three days after the Ministry did, I'm sure it would be more dangerous for us if something goes wrong. There's also a chance that Ministry people are in there right now, too. If we wait long enough, they might leave if they think all is clear."

Sarah smiled at Harry, relieved that he was willing to wait instead of diving head-first into their plan as soon as possible.

"We'll go to Griphook when you're ready," Harry said. "That will also give me some time to figure out what I'm going to say to him," he added dryly. Dealing with the goblin was probably going to be none too pleasant. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that Griphook already believed the sword to be his property, and offering it as another bribe for aid in breaking into Gringotts yet again would just be icing on the already thickly-layered cake.

Once Harry headed off to his partially ditched class, Sarah went over to her bookcase. If she were going to prepare herself for their mission in a timely manner, she would need to be reading more than just _The Daily Prophet_. Sifting through the rows of books, she removed _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7_ from a shelf at eye level. She settled back into her bed, wand in one hand, and the book in the other. It was time for some serious independent study.


	19. Secrets

The Name in Red.

Chapter 19: Secrets.

* * *

It was later in the day when Professor McGonagall finally finished enough of her Headmistressly runnings-around to finally have a few moments to herself. After ascending the newly-passworded staircase, she stepped into her office and sighed deeply. It was exceedingly stressful taking on Headmistress duties while still teaching Transfiguration. In reality, she had barely had much time to ponder on the mystery that she was about to address with Albus. She had been so busy that it hadn't even occurred to her that perhaps he, as all-knowing and omniscient as he always seemed to be, might be able to offer some insight on the strange case.

"Busy day, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked kindly, smiling down at her from his large frame above the Headmaster's desk.

Startled from her thoughts, Professor McGonagall glanced up at him.

"They all are, as of late," she replied neutrally. "I came back here to discuss with you what you inquired about last night, Albus."

"The new witch that the school has taken on?" he asked casually, tilting his head in a gesture of interest. Secretly, he had been entertaining questions about the girl all day, but he did not wish to press or pester Minerva in her duties. He knew how much of a stretch it must be for her to fill two jobs at once.

"Yes, the new witch," McGonagall replied, clasping her hands behind her back as she continued to tilt her head upward at the silver-bearded wizard. "Though I'm afraid it's not as simple as that. When I say _'new witch'_, I mean, quite literally _new witch_."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes in thought, urging her to continue.

"She came to here out of nowhere, practically," McGonagall continued, "One night, not long ago. She simply turned up on our doorstep, having bled half to death from being attacked by the Centaurs of the forest."

"The Centaurs attacked an innocent young girl? Unprovoked?" asked Dumbledore, looking deeply contemplative.

"Apparently they did not seem to think she was so innocent, Albus," answered McGonagall, "They set on her. The girl said that they may have spoken to her prior to their attack, but she was simply too terrified to remember what they said."

Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"Severus discovered her on the steps of the castle and brought her inside," she continued, "When she finally came around, she, strangely, hadn't the faintest idea that she was a witch."

"That is strange," said Dumbledore quietly, looking as though his thoughts were deepening by the second as he listened to Minerva's story. After a few moments of silence, he dared ask one of the burning questions swimming in his mind. "How old is the girl, Minerva?"

"Eighteen," came McGonagall's reply. "One year older than our normal seventh-years, and the same age as our returning ones."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. McGonagall directed her eyes away from him, beginning to slowly pace up and down the office, as he once did himself while pondering mysteries. She calmly described the girl's circumstances.

"She narrowly escaped the Centaurs, it seems, by performing some extraordinarily powerful, albeit unintentional, magic," she said. She then took a deep breath. "She seems to have slowed the passage of time for a few scant fractions of a second, and then burned one of them with her bare hands."

Dumbledore remained silent. McGonagall continued her slow pacing across the richly carpeted office floor.

"She was completely clueless as to what she was doing, and completely clueless to the fact that she was a witch," McGonagall finished and paused, hoping for some input from her avid listener.

"And she is from America," Dumbledore stated matter-of-factly.

"She is," McGonagall replied. "That much was obvious as soon as she opened her mouth and spoke to us."

Dumbledore nodded.

"Of course," he agreed. "Perhaps...," he began, pausing for thought as he reasoned out what surely must have been an easily-explicable avenue of reason which Minerva had probably already explored, and pushing its alternative out of his mind, "Perhaps she is a Muggleborn? A Muggleborn whose parents were either never contacted by any sort of Wizarding authority, or else who conscienciously chose to raise her as simply a Muggle?"

"That was our first explanation as well," said McGonagall, still pacing. "But apparently the girl has no parents. She told us that they were killed in car accident when she was very young. I do not even think she knew them. We thought then, perhaps, that the authorities in America must simply have lost track of her after her parents died as she moved through different homes, or that she was thought to be dead as well."

"A logical theory," said Dumbledore.

"Yes," McGonagall agreed grimly, "But it, unfortunately, became completely illogical when the girl told us more about her childhood. We asked her the standard questions that any Muggleborn witch or wizard is asked when they are approached by the magical community; if there had been any mysterious or inexplicable events that occurred in their past. Of course, there was."

"When the girl was young, she seems to have unintentionally animated a sizeable tree into attacking her schoolyard tormentors. The event was evidently witnessed by several, including at least one teacher, and a couple of the children were also physically hurt," she explained. "She was so frightened by what had happened that she ran away immediately. Upon returning to her school the next day, no one there had any memory whatsoever of the event, and the children who had been injured were unscathed."

Dumbledore looked troubled.

"Surely they were Obliviated," he surmised.

"Severus and I did not see any other explanation, either," she admitted. "But that only rose further questions for us. Was she being watched? Why was she not approached, if someone knew what she was? Why was she..."

McGonagall continued pacing up and down the office, rattling off mysterious questions about Sarah which seemed unable, unwilling, and unlikely to answer themselves. Dumbledore, however, was no longer listening. His mind was racing with thoughts of his own. He began absently twisting a bit of his beard between his fingers as he contemplated. All of the circumstances were strange. A little _too_ strange for his liking. Even if he possibly might know some of the answers to the questions which Minerva was now straining over, he still possibly might not. Even if he were wrong, he still did not want to invite the kind of commotion that it might, and most certainly would, bring. Taking a deep breath, he resolved that he would just have to remain silent and see if the mysteries surrounding the girl would eventually unravel themselves.

When McGonagall finally fell silent, Dumbledore spoke up again.

"Extremely strange," he supplied.

"And not only that, Albus," she continued to press, "But the magic she performed while her life was in danger seems to have had a physical effect on her. Her eyes should be brown, but they are now bright red."

Dumbledore's expression darkened.

"They did not appear that way when the girl was brought here last night," he argued, but then immediately corrected himself. "A glamour?"

"Yes. Severus keeps applying a glamour to her eyes to make them appear normal. I don't need to tell you what would happen if someone with red eyes went prancing about the castle," she said.

"Does the girl know?"

"She does," said McGonagall. "Quite by accident, but she knows. And she has also been informed of the certain stigma attached to having that _particular_ eye color," she added, her tone grim.

The room fell silent again as Dumbledore's mind once again raced. This could complicate things. He immediately voiced the next question that formed in his mind.

"Has she a wand?"

"She does," said McGonagall, nodding, and still pacing. Dumbledore looked relieved at this. "I made it a high priority that she get her hands on one as soon as possible and that she begin learning how to control her magic. In the meantime, she seems to be doing quite well, actually. She is taking lessons with Severus every weeknight, and from what he tells me, she seems to be excelling marvelously."

"I am glad to hear that," said Dumbledore, sounding extremely sincere.

"She has also made friends of some of the Gryffindor students," McGonagall continued, "Including Mister Potter, Miss Granger, and the Weasley children. She seems to be adjusting well to the school, with their help, I am sure. She is currently staying within the Room of Requirement, which was Mister Potter's idea. I also gave my permission for her to have the password into Gryffindor tower, as to be with her new friends."

Dumbledore smiled inwardly to himself. If Harry was now her friend, he was _certain_ that mysteries would begin unraveling themselves by the kilometer. Of course, he left this sentiment silent. Minerva had enough to worry about already.

Professor McGonagall sighed again, becoming aware of the time.

"I am afraid I have to get to my afternoon Transfiguration class, Albus," she said. It was evident how stressed and exhausted she was.

"Very well, Minerva. Thank you for telling me all of this," Dumbledore replied.

Professor McGonagall gave a nod of acknowledgement. She then turned to once again leave the office, making her way back down the spiral staircase. Before she was completely out of earshot, she shouted back,

"Let me know if you think of anything about it, won't you?"

Unfortunately, she did not witness Dumbledore's lack of a response to her request. He may, perhaps, already know some things about it. He was just hoping that he would end up being wrong.

* * *

After several hours of solitary reading in her room, Sarah became listless. She felt that she was indeed learning a lot, and that there was so much more that she could learn on her own. At the same time, she was thirsty for more knowledge. The bookcases which her room had created for her were far from modest, containing many detailed volumes on almost anything she could want to know about. Still, she wanted to know more. Closing her book noisily and setting aside, she quickly rose out of bed. With her friends still in class and nothing better to do, she decided that now was as good a time as any for a visit to the place which Hermione frequently raved about.

Leaving her room in the seventh floor corridor, Sarah wasn't exactly sure where the library was, but she was determined to find it. Whenever Hermione mentioned it, she always gestured in a general direction. Based on this, Sarah thought that she would be able to find the library on her own. She did not know the entire layout of the castle extremely well yet, but she did know her usual routes well enough to feel confident about straying off the beaten path. After all, if she were to get lost, it wasn't as if she would never be found or find her way back... she hoped. She still had the feeling of not entirely knowing what to expect from this magical place.

Fortunately, after only a short while of venturing through the corridors in the direction which Hermione always gestured, Sarah was able to find the library. It was almost as big and easy-to-notice for her as the Great Hall was. Pleased that she had managed to lead herself someplace new without any help, she ventured inside.

She was simply awed by the library of Hogwarts. She had never seen so many books in one place before. In fact, she highly doubted that there were so many books together in one place anywhere in the _entire world_ than there were here. Not knowing where to begin, Sarah began aimlessly wandering the many-tiered aisles of books, reading the titles on the spines of the ancient tomes. Several times, she had to dodge out of the way of stacks of flying books which had apparently been charmed to replace themselves in their proper spots after use.

After what might have been hours of exploring, Sarah emerged from the towers of books carrying an armful of them. They were a fairly random assortment of books whose topics ranged from extinct magical creatures to precision spell control, and even one on alchemy. She had only grabbed a few books which interested her; she doubted that anyone would be able to read every single book in this library even in a thousand lifetimes... even as she thought this, she decided that she would ask Hermione just how many of them she had read.

The librarian, it turned out, was a most unpleasant woman who seemed to think that Sarah was going to do terrible things to her books. She also greatly resembled an underfed vulture. After assuring the woman that the books would be returned in a timely manner, and in pristine condition, Sarah was allowed to leave the library with them.

She confidently set out on the trek back to her room, certain that she would easily be able to find her way back. Unfortunately, along the way, she became sidetracked with inspecting one of her books and soon found herself in extremely unfamiliar corridors. Frustrated, she sighed as she continued to wind her way through unknown reaches of the school, hopeful to bump into someone that might be able to assist her. After a short while, she heard loud footsteps echoing from the end of the corridor she was in. Someone must be walking along the adjacent corridor. _Good_, she thought to herself, _They'll be able to point me in the right direction_.

As she hurried down toward the end of the corridor, the loud footsteps grew even louder and more echoing, taking on an odd quality to them.

_Clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop_...

"They must be wearing some serious shoes...," Sarah whispered to herself as she neared the end of the corridor.

As she rushed around the corner to face her savior, she was met with a nightmare. A sudden jolt of terror shot through her. She yelled aloud and dropped her books, stumbling backward frantically, only to fall over painfully onto the hard stone.

Groaning, she mastered herself and opened her eyes, hoping that she had only been imagining things, or perhaps that the castle had been playing tricks on her. Unfortunately, she was wrong.

As she looked up from the floor, a pair of horse's legs were standing directly before her. Her eyes slowly trailed upward over the muscular front of the creature. Just as she had seen that dreadful night in the forest, a man's upper body joined the body of the horse where its neck and head should have been. Yet this one was somehow different; she was not being attacked or shouted at. She didn't feel as if she were in danger anymore.

Her eyes continued scanning upward, over the well-defined muscles of the man's torso and arms, and finally up to his face. His hair was long and blonde with protruding pointed ears, his face strikingly handsome, and his eyes astonishingly blue. He stood there calmly looking down at the girl on the floor, his head slightly tilted in curiosity, and his long, elegant tail swishing idly behind him.

"Are you alright, Sarah Garrend?" he asked her, his voice even, smooth, and melodic; almost like a song.

Realizing that she had been staring at him and his handsome non-equine features, she blinked herself back into reality.

"Oh," she said quickly. "Yes, I'm alright. I'm sorry. I was just a bit... startled... by you."

Being that he was so very tall, Firenze had to slowly bend himself down on one knee to offer Sarah a helping hand back to her feet. She gladly accepted it, and at once she was upright again. Firenze then went about politely collecting her books for her, kneeling gracefully to do so.

"It is fine," he assured her, straightening up and handing back her now neatly stacked books.

"Thank you," she said, giving him a small smile and taking her books from him. Her first and only encounter with Centaurs, so far, had been far less pleasant than this one, and she still found herself nervous. "Erm... how did you know my name?"

"All of the staff have been informed of your presence here by the Headmistress," he explained, "But, of course, I would have known your name even if this was not the case."

"How?" Sarah immediately inquired. Was this Centaur one of the ones that had attacked her, unprovoked?

"The stars told me you were coming," he smiled down at her pleasantly.

She blinked at him again. She knew absolutely nothing of Centaurs and their stargazing ways.

"And your name?" she asked politely, after several moments of silence.

"Ah, forgive me," he said, giving her a cordial bow. "I am Firenze. I teach Divination classes here."

"Nice to meet you, Firenze," said Sarah.

The Centaur nodded to her.

"Anyway, I'm sort of a bit lost, I just came from the library. Do you think you could point me in the direction of the Great Hall?" Sarah asked. If she were able to get back to the Great Hall, she could definitely find her way back to her room on her own.

"As I was actually headed in that direction myself, I shall walk you there. Come with me, Sarah Garrend," said Firenze, motioning back in the direction from which she had originally come.

Still curious about how the Centaur would have known her name, she was unfortunately too intimidated by him and alltogether too nervous to ask him any further questions. She walked beside him quietly, trying to resist the urge to glance at his otherworldly beauty once more. She could see that one of his flanks bore a deep-looking scar.

To Sarah's relief, he escorted her back to the Great Hall. When they arrived there, he turned to her.

"Thank you so much, Firenze," she said to him, smiling. With such a friendly and helpful Centaur around, it seemed, it probably wouldn't be difficult for her to overcome her fear of them.

Returning her smile, he bowed to her again.

"Proceed with caution, Sarah Garrend," he told her, before turning and continuing on his way.

Sarah stood there for a few moments, wondering what that could possibly mean. Soon after, however, she realized that it was almost supper time, and she would need to put her books up in her room before meeting her friends. Without giving it a second thought, she continued along the familiar path back up to her seventh floor corridor.

* * *

Supper that evening was fairly uneventful. Sarah, who had spent much of her afternoon before her visit to the library perusing her copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7_, took up the opportunity to ask Hermione several questions about spells which resulted in several fairly lengthy and difficult-to-understand answers. Still, she felt that she was learning a great deal, even if she couldn't comprehend everything that Hermione was saying. She could certainly see how great of an academic help Hermione had been to Harry and Ron over the years.

Hermione was extremely pleased to learn that Sarah had visited the library on her own, and suggested that she make another trip along with her for a thorough, guided tour.

Sarah also told her friends how she had met Firenze, and how he had helped her when she became lost. Sarah was amused, and could not help but laugh, when she heard how many of the female students of the school fancied him because of his good looks. Sarah too admitted that she had been caught staring when she first saw him.

Still engaged in a lengthy conversation about spells with Hermione, Sarah was gently nudged by Harry when it was nearing seven o'clock.

"Oh, right," she said, snapping back to reality. She then abruptly rose from the table. "Thanks for the help, Hermione, but I've got to run. I'll see you guys later."

Hermione smiled and nodded at her, pleased that she was taking up an initiative to learn more about magic on her own. Harry gave her a nod as well. He had been fairly quiet throughout the meal. In reality, he had been greatly wanting to further discuss their plan, but knew that he could not do so in the presence of their other friends. Ginny and Ron, who were absorbed in yet another argument about Quidditch, did not even notice her get up to leave.

As Sarah slipped out of the Great Hall, none of her friends at the Gryffindor table noticed a second figure slip out discreetly after her.

Only a few steps into the corridor outside, Sarah was startled by a voice right behind her.

"Hey!"

Surprised, Sarah wheeled about expecting to see Harry chasing her down the corridor, eager to continue discussing something about their plan. Instead, she was greeted by the same tall young man with white-blonde hair who had come to visit her in the hospital wing yesterday.

"Draco," Sarah smiled. Draco was also smiling as he approached her, but Sarah could not help but liken his uncertain mannerisms to a frightened animal approaching something strange and unknown. He looked uneasy, as if he did not quite fully know what he was doing.

"I saw you leaving," Draco began, his hands thrust deep in his trouser pockets and his head slightly bowed. "I figured the Slytherin table would be glad to be rid of me a bit early, so I thought I would come and say hello. A good opportunity, you know." He left silent the part which included her not being followed by any of her Gryffindor friends, as well. As that thought crossed his mind, he nervously glanced back toward the doors of the Great Hall, just to be certain.

"That was nice of you," said Sarah, still smiling at him, and unable to help herself from feeling endeared by his obvious uncertainty at friendly social interaction. "I was actually just headed to my lesson with Professor Snape. You can walk there with me, if you like. I wouldn't be surprised at myself to get lost in here again."

Draco nodded silently and took a step forward, urging her to continue on her way. He walked beside her as she proceeded onward.

"Lesson with Professor Snape?" he asked curiously after a moment's pause.

"Yeah," replied Sarah, "I'm not really taking normal classes, to be honest. I've got lessons during the week with Professor Snape. He teaches me a bit of everything." At this, she could not help but blush slightly and bite the inside of her mouth.

Draco raised his eyebrows. It seemed strange that, after having been adopted into Gryffindor, Sarah would be taking lessons with the Slytherin Head of House.

"Why aren't you taking lessons with Professor McGonagall?" asked Draco.

"She doesn't have enough time, with being Headmistress and all. So she put Professor Snape up to it," said Sarah.

Draco snorted quietly to himself.

"I see now," he said amusedly. "I couldn't see Professor Snape volunteering to give private lessons to a student during his evening hours."

Sarah laughed a little.

"Yeah, he wasn't exactly happy about it from the get-go, but I think he's alright with it now." She said this as nonchalantly as possible while smirking to herself.

"He isn't really mean to you, then?" asked Draco, tilting his head to the side to glance at Sarah as they walked along.

"No, he's not," Sarah replied firmly. "What is it with everyone thinking he's a jerk all the time." This last statement, she said to herself more than to her companion.

"Well, he sort of is," Draco said timidly, glancing down at his feet so as to not misstep as they began winding their way down into the dungeons. "To most people, anyway. He tends to be a bit nicer to the Slytherin students if you can even call it being nice, but still, he's far from being a nice teacher, or a nice person."

"Alright, I guess I can admit that's true in most cases," Sarah ceded.

"You're looking all better, at any rate," said Draco, changing the subject. He also gave a nod in her direction. "All fixed up from the Bludger hit, then?"

Sarah nodded.

"It wasn't all that bad, really. Just a big bruise, and Madam Pomfrey fixed it all up," she replied. "Still, I won't be laying a hand on another broom if the Slytherin team is anywhere near me."

Draco laughed.

"That's how most people feel, actually, so you're not alone," he said. He looked up now that they were nearing the door which he knew to lead into Snape's office.

Sarah smiled and shared in his laughter. When they reached the door to Snape's office, she turned to face him. His head was still slightly bowed, and his hands were still thrust deeply into his pockets.

"Thanks for walking me here," she told him sincerely. She knew how much of a stretch it must be for him to risk befriending her, and she wanted to do her best to encourage it.

"No trouble at all, really," he assured her politely.

As the two continued to chat for a minute and then said their goodbyes, the door that they were standing in front of was suddenly and noisily wrenched open.

Snape, who was completely unaccustomed to hearing laughter and talking in the corridor outside of his office, had immediately come to investigate the source of the noise. He looked angry and intense as he glared out at the unknown occupants of the hallway. As his glare fell upon Sarah, however, his expression softened. Unfortunately, this was only momentary as his expression immediately intensified again as his eyes fell on the young man standing beside her. Both Draco and Sarah looked startled, but Draco looked extremely so.

A few silent moments passed in which Snape's eyes darted from Draco to Sarah and back. So she had been talking and laughing with Malfoy, who had evidently walked her here. For some reason, this unsettled him. He immediately felt territorial. He had been completely unaware that they knew each other, and even more completely unaware that they were apparently friendly as well.

"Mister Malfoy," Snape said at last, his tone heavy and flat. He then glanced over at Sarah again, eager to separate them. "We have a lesson to get on with. If you would be so kind."

Draco nodded once and muttered something incomprehensible, chancing a glance and a nod at Sarah before he turned and hurriedly left the dungeons. As soon as he was out of sight, Snape stepped aside to allow Sarah entrance to his office. Still slightly startled by his sudden appearance and the cold, harsh way in which he had seemed to dispatch Draco, she hurried inside. She thought to herself that she couldn't blame Draco for assuming that Snape was mean to her.

Closing the door softly behind Sarah, Snape strode past her around to his desk.

"A new friend?" he asked casually as he passed her, attempting to belie his sudden jealousy and suspicion.

So far, he had managed to control his suspicions about her apparent friendship with Potter because he had, on many occasions, observed Potter with the Weasley girl. He could manage to beat it into his head that Potter was probably not interested in the girl. Malfoy, however, he knew to be alone in every sense of the word. He could not help but let his old, deep-running insecurities come to the forefront. Sarah was, after all, a young, attractive witch; and Malfoy a young, attractive wizard. Himself by comparison was nothing but an old man.

Sarah's eyes widened slightly. She wasn't quite sure how she could tell, but something wasn't quite right with him. He seemed on edge, when he was usually quite the opposite around her lately. As he rounded his desk to look at her again, his expression was casual, but she could sense something more intense stirring in the depths of his black eyes.

"Yes," she replied, "He came to see me yesterday in the hospital wing after I'd been hit with the Bludger to see if I was alright. He even brought me flowers."

Snape's eyes must have darkened about ten shades from their usual darkest black.

A shot of fear-related adrenaline worked its way into Sarah's system.

"I see," he said, still trying his best to sound extremely casual. He straightened up. He could no longer resist the urge, and had just made a rapid change in lesson plan for this evening. "Well, for this evening's lesson I have something fairly advanced planned for you, but I am sure you will excel in learning it as you have your many other magical skills."

"More advanced than flying without a broom?" Sarah asked, slightly excited and slightly nervous at the same time. However, she was now successfully distracted from how menacing Snape had looked when she had mentioned Draco bringing her flowers.

Snape strode around to the front of his desk and leaned against it, still facing her where she stood in the middle of his office.

"In a different way," he said, after a moment of thought. "But it is a highly useful skill that all witches and wizards would do well to learn. For some, it is extremely difficult to master, and for others, simple. Your friend Potter, for instance, did not do well on this skill to say the least."

Sarah raised her eyebrows; Harry seemed like an extremely talented wizard, and she couldn't imagine something at which he might fail.

"What is it?" she asked at last, after Snape did not expound.

"Occlumency," he replied. "It is the ability to shield your mind against outside access by those who would seek to discern your thoughts, memories, or feelings."

Sarah suddenly looked stricken.

"People can do that?" she choked out nervously, now paranoid that every student in the school could be privy to her secret thoughts and feelings about this man at a whim, not to mention their certain extracurricular activities.

Snape smirked to himself, able to read her clearly even without the use of Legilimency.

"A Legilimens can," he explained. "And do not concern yourself; I do not believe any student in this school to be overly talented at Legilimency. It is not something normally taught. You would know if someone were seeking to penetrate your mind."

Sarah breathed a silent sigh of relief, but suddenly became stricken again, looking suspiciously at Snape.

"But wait, how did you just-? I didn't feel anyth-,"

Snape could not help but chuckle lowly to himself.

"I did not need Legilimency to know what you were thinking at that particular moment," he said.

"You can do it, then?" Sarah asked.

Snape nodded.

"Quite well," he admitted. "I am also a master Occlumens. I had to be for my frequent... occupational hazards."

Sarah did not need to guess twice as to what this truly meant.

"And in order to teach Occlumency to _you_, I will need to perform Legilimency on you, so that you may learn to shield yourself from it," he explained. The perfect excuse.

"Alright," said Sarah, sounding somewhat uneasy. She swallowed hard and wondered if he already knew that she had something to hide from him. "What do I do?" she asked, drawing her wand out from inside her robes.

"You will not need a wand for this," he instructed her patiently. He did not need her to reproduce any of the catastrophic side-effects that Potter had produced while attempting to learn Occlumency, such as an inadvertent stinging hex.

Sarah nodded, immediately replacing her wand inside her robes. Snape then strode forward a few paces, bringing himself closer to her. His arms were folded across his chest, and his black eyes were looking down into hers, already eager to probe their depths. He had to, of course, give the girl a chance to defend herself first, even though he was certain that she would not be able to shield herself perfectly on a first attempt. In fact, this is what he was counting on in order to find out what he wanted to know: how she was feeling about Malfoy, and maybe Potter too, while he was at it.

"You will have adequate warning when I am about to perform Legilimency on you," he assured her. "When I do, you will need to focus on closing your mind. Clear your mind of anything and everything. Any racing or panicked thought will be as obvious to me as if you were shouting it aloud. Your mind needs to be as blank as you can manage to make it."

Sarah nodded once, listening intently to his instructions.

"After you have focused on blanking your mind," he continued, "You will need to begin focusing on pushing me out of it. Being able to clear your mind successfully won't matter if I can remain there indefinitely and wait for you to slip up. Do you understand?"

"I think so," she said uneasily.

"It will take some getting used to," he said, nodding at her. He slowly reached inside his own robes, withdrawing his wand. "You probably will not have the faintest idea what I am talking about until you actually experience it for yourself. Are you ready?"

Sarah nodded, shifting uneasily on her feet.

"Very well then. Prepare yourself," he told her, raising his wand to her eye level.

Sarah took a deep breath, trying to relax and clear her mind as best she could.

"One, two, three... _Legilimens_."

It might have been one of the strangest sensations Sarah had yet felt in her entire life. There was suddenly a nameless, formless presence inside her, riffling through her thoughts. It felt as if there was another entity inside her mind, separate from her own consciousness, and yet part of it. Snape wasted no time in searching for the things he was after, and Sarah stood there, stunned, watching it all happening like some kind of bizarre, fast-forwarded movie reel.

She was standing in the corridor outside Snape's office with Draco before Snape had opened the door; she was walking down to Snape's office beside Draco, chatting with him; she was sitting on a bed in the hospital wing with Draco standing before her, looking extremely uncertain of himself, and handing her roses; she was standing on the Quidditch pitch watching the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams squaring each other up, and a young man in the Slytherin crowd smiled at her... Then, everything went black, and Sarah found herself staring up at the ceiling of Snape's office.

Having found no more memories involving Malfoy, and being sufficiently satisfied that he had discerned no feelings of romantic warmth or affection from the memories he had seen, he had ceased probing her mind to see how she had coped with the sensation.

Unfortunately, she had not coped with it very well. After he had drawn out of her mind, she had fallen over from the sheer shock of it, and was now lying on her back on the floor, unmoving, and her expression quite blank.

Slowly, he approached, her, peering down at her curiously. She stared back up at him and blinked. Without speaking, he extended his hand to her. Sitting up, she took his hand in hers and allowed him to help her to her feet.

"That was... strange," she said quietly, shaking her head back and forth as if to clear it of the strange presence that had just been inside. "And... you saw all those things? Me talking with Draco, and how I met him?"

"Yes," he admitted, "I saw all of the things that you saw me seeing, as it were. Now that you have a better idea of what to expect, you can begin trying to protect yourself against it. Shall we try again?" Snape asked, eager to start reviewing all of her memories about Potter.

"Alright," said Sarah, steadying herself. Again, she took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind.

Snape raised his wand back to her eye level, and said slowly again,

"One, two, three... _Legilimens_."

The sensation was just as strange as it had been the first time, but the shock of it was lessened as she felt the presence invade her mind and begin sifting through her thoughts. She was once again watching everything speeding by extremely quickly. Her own thought process, a dim underlying presence that she could vaguely hear, seemed extremely slow, foggy, and sluggish by comparison. These memories that she watched speed by, however, were all out-of-order compared to the ones involving Draco.

She watched, in succession, several instances in which she was alone with Harry, talking with him; there were also several times that she was with all of her Gryffindor friends, Harry included; she was dining with them in the Great Hall; she was with Harry the first time that he had taken her to meet Hagrid; she saw her ordeal on the Quidditch pitch, and also her first Quidditch game; she saw herself colliding with an invisible Harry in the corridor outside the hospital wing the first time they had met; then, she was strolling with Harry into Diagon Alley...

As she saw this last memory fly by, a sudden, terrifying thought lifted itself in her mind. Fortunately, Snape was too busy scrupulously examining her Potter-related memories to notice. What if he sees what they were up to? What if he sees them breaking into the Ministry, with _his_ stolen Polyjuice Potion? The thought sent a shock of terror through Sarah's body, and suddenly her slow, foggy, and sluggish thought process became clear and sharp. She knew she had to put a stop to this, or he would see something that she didn't want him to.

Without knowing what else to do, or how to successfully blank her thoughts and push Snape out of them, Sarah shut her eyes as tightly as she could, focusing every ounce of her energy on her mind. Before Snape could see anything else, her thoughts sped up to the point where they were indistinguishable and unreadable, hectic, chaotic, and panicked. Sensing her discomfort, he immediately put a stop to his probing and withdrew. As soon as he did, Sarah once again lost her balance and fell to the floor, but managed to remain sitting up instead of falling over completely.

When he looked down at her, she was breathing slightly heavily and looking a little scared as she looked back up at him, her brown eyes wide.

"Are you well?" he asked, stepping forward and offering her his hand again. He was eager to begin again; the last memory that he had seen intrigued him greatly.

She nodded and took his hand, and was lifted to her feet.

"I was unaware that you and Mr. Potter visited Diagon Alley together," he said casually as he stepped away from her again, his wand still in his hand.

"Oh," she said, remembering the memory which had spurred her to push him out of her mind. "Yeah, I liked it so much that I wanted to go back and do some more shopping, so Harry asked for Professor McGonagall's permission, and we went. That was the night when I...," she cleared her throat and continued more quietly, "...got a little drunk."

"More than a little, I would say," he said amusedly. His wand itched in his hand; he wanted to search for more memories of Potter that he was not aware of. Even so, he was thus far relieved that none of her memories had contained and kind of romantic airs or feelings. "Are you ready to try again?"

"Give me a second," said Sarah, and Snape nodded to her in reply.

_Now_ she was scared. She didn't seem to be able to clear her mind or force him out very well, and there were definitely things that she did not want him seeing. She could get herself, and Harry, in loads of trouble, not only with Snape, but perhaps the Wizarding authorities, too. If she were to ask him to stop, it might look suspicious. She would just have to focus extra hard and try to keep her mind blank, and to force him out as quickly as possible, even though she had not yet managed to do so on her own.

After several moments of composing herself, she nodded at Snape.

"Alright," she told him.

Raising his wand again, Snape repeated,

"One, two, three... _Legilimens_."

This, on Sarah's part, was a much more successful attempt at Occlumency. Initially her mind was a blank, hazy, and foggy space. She could only hold this stasis for a few moments, however, before her mind, and her heart, started racing again. She was in Snape's storeroom, kissing him passionately, having been backed up against the ladder by him. Sarah, knowing what was really happening in this memory, tensed up again. She did not manage to push him out immediately, but fortunately for her, Snape was transfixed in watching this memory replay itself, and her mind did not continue to race. Mostly because Snape had lost his focus upon seeing them together in such a manner, she was able to gently push him out of her mind. Still standing, she blinked at him.

He looked back at her, slightly confused. He could not ignore that he had been distracted and aroused by seeing this memory, but his intent had been to search for memories that Potter was in, and Potter was clearly not a part of _this_ memory. Was he that easily distracted by the girl that he lost his focus so quickly?

"Very good," he told her. "At first, it was perfect, but then you lost focus and... chose to bring that particular memory to the forefront of your mind?"

Sarah swallowed hard.

"Yes," she said quickly, "It just... sort of... came to mind when I was trying to keep it clear. I couldn't help it." She also couldn't help the fact that she was now blushing for several reasons, her lying to him being the least of them.

"I see," he said. "Well, while you did not manage to keep your mind perfectly clear, by pushing one clear thought to the forefront of your mind you did manage to stop me from probing any further and successfully push me out, though I must admit that I too was... distracted," he purred.

Sarah blushed even deeper.

"Shall we try again?" he asked, but his tone was silky and seductive, almost telling her that he was anxious to find out what he might see in her mind next.

Sarah then realized that she might have a strategy. If she could push clear, vivid memories of their passionate moments together to the front of her mind, he would probably be contented with viewing them and not looking any further. Of course, she would still have to try and clear her mind first, but as soon as it failed, she would push up one of her more heated memories.

"Okay," she said, swallowing hard again, watching nervously as Snape raised his wand.

"One, two, three... _Legilimens_."

This attempt also started off well. Her mind was initially a blank fog, through which nothing was visible. Sarah managed to make this state last several seconds longer than she had the first time, but she quickly found her mind beginning to race again. Before she could betray herself with incriminating thoughts of Harry and their secret activities, she quickly forced another memory to the front of her mind. She was lying on her back in the cool grass on the Quidditch pitch at night, in the darkness, with Snape atop her, kissing her passionately; then she was in his bed the first time that they had made love, a heated tangle of bare limbs, moaning his name in bliss as he pushed into her again and again... each of these memories lasted several good, long moments, as if Snape was taking his time in viewing the goings-on.

She had been prepared to bring another memory to the forefront, but the presence in her mind was suddenly gone, and she found herself once again looking at Snape, and thankfully, she was still on her feet. He looked at her intensely, his eyes hungry. She took a deep, shaky breath; the memories had affected her the same way that they had affected him.

"Well," he said, after a few moments of heated silence, "I must say that after your first practice at it, you are infinitely more talented at this skill than Potter, and given more time, you might become very good Occlumens."

She nodded her thanks, pleased with herself that she had at least succeeded in some small way, even if it had been a slightly contrived one. She watched as he placed his wand down on the far corner of his desk.

"Now, however... what do you say to calling it an early lesson, and making some more memories for when next we practice?" he purred, stepping dangerously close to her.

In response, Sarah could do nothing but remain rooted to the spot, looking up at him. Such was his effect on her. She had been brought from fear and panic to warmth and arousal so quickly that her body barely knew what to do. Either way, her pulse, along with her mind, was once again racing. She felt her body flash hot when his hands slowly snaked their way to rest on her hips.

She opened her mouth slightly to form some kind of response. Ever the opportunist, Snape took complete advantage of this momentary lapse, and quickly leaned down, placing his own lips upon hers. A soft kiss gradually turned into a deep one, and he quickly switched their positions so that she was fast being backed up against the desk by him. All the while, one hand gently ran its way up her side, and the other entangled itself in her long, flowing hair.

This embrace he had her locked within pulsed of a hunger and possessiveness which she had never felt before. Even though she could barely hear her own thoughts again, as was the case when he was inside her mind, she was dimly able to register something. He held her so tightly and so passionately. So possessively. She vaguely recalled how his eyes had darkened when they fell upon Draco, how they had darkened even more when he mentioned her hospital wing visit from him, and how he had seemed off and on-edge when first entering the office with her. Then, their lesson immediately consisted of him sifting through her memories of Draco, and, since they were few as they had only just met, her memories of Harry as well.

Could it possibly be that he was... jealous?

Did he invent their lesson plan for the evening on the spot simply to probe her mind about her activities with other males in the castle?

At first, she did not quite know how to feel about this. She brought her hands up to rest on his chest with the primary intention of pushing him away, but once they met his smooth, lean muscle, they stayed there, splaying themselves out to feel him. She could no more resist his physical influence on her than she could his presence in her mind. She did not truly know how deeply his many insecurities ran, but she could sense that this newfound possessiveness was genuine and real. It was almost as if he was immensely relieved to have her safe in his arms again, like a drowning man gasping for air.

* * *

As they relaxed in each other's arms, she rested her head on his shoulder once again. Gradually they caught their collective breath, but none of their heat faded. After a period of silence, Sarah finally spoke.

"Just so you know," she whispered tentatively, "I'm not interested in Harry, or Draco."

He tightened his arms around her briefly in response. So the girl had deduced what he had really been up to tonight before their lesson had lead them here to this passionate embrace, even though he would not admit it aloud. The small squeeze was his way of thanking her for the reassurance, and also thanking her for not flying off the handle about having her thoughts invaded for his own jealous purposes. He sighed softly. He had once again let his insecurities take control of his actions. Thankfully, this time, no one had been hurt. Perhaps it had even brought them closer together. So much between them still remained, for the most part, unspoken. Despite this, they communicated astonishingly well for such a seemingly mismatched pair.

Giving her another gentle squeeze, he turned his head so his lips rested against her ear.

"I believe we still have some more memories to make tonight, yet," he whispered.


	20. Time Flies Dangerous Dealings

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 20: Time Flies; Dangerous Dealings.

* * *

It was now most definitely winter. The castle itself and its surrounding grounds were now covered with their first glazes of snow. The first flakes had fallen recently, gently forcing the last of the dried leaves upon the lawns to accept their soft embrace and move into the new season. The holidays were fast approaching, and the cold had set in early, but the snow had fortunately not begun to pile up to any significant measures just yet. At the moment, it was little more than a slight hindrance underfoot on the trudges back and forth from Hogsmeade instead of a full-blown obstacle.

The couple short months since Sarah's arrival in her new world had passed more than quickly. Just as time had once seemed to slow itself for her, it now seemed to be skipping along at a healthy pace. She was surrounded by new and wonderful friends, and had infinite amounts of new things to learn each and every day. After having agreed to Harry's wish to gain access to Gringotts, she quickly shifted most of her studies to some of the more practical aspects of magic. Her friends were happy to share all of their knowledge with her, and also to help her practice. Snape, of course, was happy to teach her anything she wanted to know during their lessons together, and Hagrid had taken a great enthusiasm in her sudden desire to learn everything there was to know about dragons.

One of her biggest goals of the past weeks had been to gain a mastery over the amazing feat of Apparition. If at any time during their venture into the bank she were to become separated from Harry, she wanted a means of escaping on her own. To all except Harry, she of course left the reasons behind her real desire to learn this skill a secret. Even so, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione became her willing Apparition tutors during their frequent trips into Hogsmeade. These lessons were conducted in careful secrecy in an alleyway behind the Hog's Head pub in the much less-traveled part of town. It was illegal to Apparate without a license, but all parties were in agreement that it would be most unwise for Sarah to simply stroll inside the Ministry and present herself to take the Apparition test legitimately.

Sarah proved to be a quick study on the skill, only suffering minor splinches here and there that were easily fixed by Hermione. Today, however, she would be attempting her first long-distance Apparition by herself. It was mid-afternoon on a Friday, and she was sitting in her room upon her bed, nervously wringing her hands. Harry would be coming to get her soon, after his last class of the day had ended. Together they were going to see Professor McGonagall and ask her permission that Harry be allowed to take Sarah and show her Grimmauld Place so she could decide if she would like to stay there for the holidays instead of remaining behind at school.

This year would be a bit of a departure from Harry's normal holiday tradition; he had already informed the Weasley family that he would be spending the holidays in his own home this year for the first time, but also that Ron and Ginny were welcome to come and spend the holidays there as well. Hermione had also been invited, of course. This change of pace was mostly to facilitate their plans at infiltrating Gringotts, but Harry also realized that he would have to start getting more used to the fact that Grimmauld Place was going to be his home as well for the time being. He also reckoned that the Weasley house could probably use the extra room. Bill and Fleur would be coming in, who were now expecting; Percy was on good terms with the family again, and Charlie, who had spent far too many holidays alone with his dragons, would also be coming in.

As Harry had thought this, he had felt a sharp pang when he realized that the Weasley family would now be permanently one member short each holiday season.

Ron and Ginny, with Mrs. Weasley's permission, had accepted their invitations to stay with Harry, but only after Christmas was over. It was, as Harry realized, the family's first Christmas without Fred, and Molly would need all the emotional support she could get. Harry agreed to these terms, adding that he would also be in attendance in the Weasley home for Christmas dinner. He, Ron, and Ginny had also gained Mrs. Weasley's permission to bring another friend along, a friend like Harry, as they told her, who hadn't a family of her own to spend Christmas with. Hermione would also be arriving at Grimmauld Place after Christmas. Things looked to be working out advantageously for their plans; Harry and Sarah would have ample time before their friends arrived, being the only residents at Grimmauld Place aside from Kreacher, to slip out undetected and unharassed.

Sarah took a deep breath as she continued wring her hands, waiting for Harry to arrive. Deep in thought, she wasn't even aware that she was doing it. The true reason behind their leaving the school grounds together was, as usual, a secret. They _would_ actually be going to Grimmauld Place as they were asking permission to, but only in order to retrieve a certain object. They would then be promptly leaving Grimmauld Place for Diagon Alley in order to _hopefully_ conduct a dealing which they were both not looking forward to. This, however, was not quite the reason why she was so nervous.

Harry would be taking her to Grimmauld Place with Side-Along Apparition, but afterwards, Sarah would have to put her Apparition skills to the test. She would be attempting to Apparate by herself from Grimmauld Place into the London alleyway along Charing Cross Road, near the Leaky Cauldron. She had proven quite adept at Apparating along short, visible distances, but she had not yet tried to Apparate any significant distance on her own. As nervous as she was, she realized that she could not truly learn without at least trying.

Sarah jerked back to reality with a slight start when there came a few light knocks on her door. She stood immediately, snatching up her Gryffindor scarf which had been sitting folded neatly next to her.

She was wearing her usual Gryffindor-robes-with-Muggle-clothing-underneath, plus her hiking boots, which had recently become more appropriate than ever with the fresh covering of snow upon the ground. Over her robes she was also wearing a warm and heavy traveling cloak for use in the cold. Snape had practically forced it upon her the other afternoon when, during his frequent and discreet observations of her daily activities with her friends, he spied her coming in from a snowy Hogsmeade, dressed none-too-warmly for his taste. Before leaving her next lesson with him, which had been followed closely by some more of their _extracurricular_ studies, he had insisted that she take it with her, and also that she promise to wear it when she next ventured out into the cold. Sarah, of course, had no choice but to comply with his stern wishes. She rather liked that he seemed to care about her so deeply in so many ways.

Their relationship, while still not formally defined, was a very intimate one. It gradually and wordlessly came to be accepted that she belonged to him, and vice versa. Their lessons together, while still productive and educational to Sarah, had taken on a much more casual feeling, and they were frequently followed by physical intimacy.

Recently, Snape had been inventing excuses to see her during the day, or had at least taken to skulking in the general vicinity of her present location at any given moment. On the same token, Sarah had been inventing excuses of her own to spend time in the dungeons on weekends in order to do some 'extra studying'. She knew that he wished to be near her, but that he was also extremely jealous of her friends, particularly the young men that she would spend time with. Draco, who was also still conducting his own secret friendship with Sarah, seemed to pop out of empty corridors or classrooms just as frequently as Snape would when she happened to be walking alone. Snape, although finding it difficult not to, did not interfere with these occasional meetings. It wouldn't do for Draco to begin suspecting something were going on between them. Still, in public, she was still 'Miss Garrend', and he was still 'Professor Snape'. Behind closed doors, however, it was a completely different story. They had so far done a very good job of concealing it. No one, aside from those select few who knew of the relationship, suspected anything.

Scarf in hand, Sarah approached the door. Before opening it, she draped it over her shoulders but left it hanging loose. Harry stood waiting for her in the doorway, dressed in almost identical attire, although his winter cloak was more of a grayish color than the solid black one adorning Sarah. He didn't have to ask to know who the cloak actually belonged to. To anyone else who inquired, Sarah would always explain how she preferred her cloaks to be a bit over-sized, even though the cloak qualified as much more than a bit so. Harry gave her a small smile.

"Ready to go?" he asked, stepping aside into the corridor and allowing Sarah to exit her room.

She took a deep, shaky breath.

"I guess so," she said, stepping out into the corridor and shutting her door softly behind her. As the pair walked off down the hall, the ornately-carved wooden door melted seamlessly back into the stone wall.

Sarah's hands were shoved deep into her robe pockets as they walked along, and she seemed to be staring blankly straight ahead.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, looking her over as they walked.

Sarah didn't hesitate for a moment before beginning to gush about her worries.

"What if I splinch myself really badly!" she exclaimed, grasping both of her arms across her chest in a hugging gesture as if she were afraid she would be parted from one of them. "What if I end up in the wrong place, way off course! What if I-,"

"Easy, easy!" Harry quieted her, smirking, and chuckling softly. "None of that is going to happen! You're brilliant at it, remember? You learned how to Apparate yourself into that hoop much faster than I did, and you've only ever splinched minor things! Besides, it's not that far to begin with. They're both in London, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Sarah admitted uneasily, realizing that she was only going to be Apparating at most a couple miles instead of an entire country, which it had seemed like to her.

"It will be just like Apparating from one end of Hogsmeade to the other," Harry assured her, quickly glancing around as they turned a corner to be sure that their current topic of conversation could continue. "You've done that already. You'll be absolutely fine, I promise."

"But what if I-," Sarah pressed, but Harry cut her off.

"You've got to stop worrying about it so much," he told her, "Or you'll be so worried that you'll distract yourself when you actually try it. You just have to not think about it. Just let it happen."

Sarah did not reply. Instead, she grimaced as she imagined splinching herself into a different part of London than was her intended target. Glancing over at her, Harry saw her anguished facial expression, and knew what she was most likely thinking about. He could not help but laugh.

"You weren't this nervous the first time you tried to fly a broom," Harry said with a smile.

"The first time I tried to fly a broom," Sarah began dryly, "I wasn't overly concerned about having random limbs severed. Although, on second thought, maybe I should have been. Just look what happened," she said, absently rubbing the side of her neck in remembrance of the painful bludger hit and her subsequent fall to the ground.

Harry chuckled again.

"Stop worrying so much," he assured her. "You'll be fine, I'll be Apparating right after you."

"Good, I'll need someone to gather up all my dissected limbs for reattachment," said Sarah, looking a bit pale. "If they even end up there in the first place. I'll probably just skip the middleman and fall apart right on the spot without actually _going_ anywhere."

Harry laughed aloud.

"Now you're just being overly dramatic," he said, giving her a couple pats on the back as they neared the corridor where the entrance to the Headmaster's tower lay. "But if that is indeed the case, St. Mungo's is right there in London too, so we'll be right close by."

"Thank goodness," Sarah said sarcastically.

As they proceeded down to the end of the next corridor, they found the door to the Headmaster's tower open, and that the spiral staircase had already ascended to its height to grant them access.

"I already let Professor McGonagall know we would be coming by this afternoon," said Harry, explaining the probable reason for the door to be open in such a manner.

Sarah nodded, following Harry up the narrow staircase until they reached the top. The wooden door facing them was closed, but Harry's arm immediately stretched out for the handle.

"Shouldn't we-," Sarah began, but Harry cut her off.

"She'll know we're here," he said, not waiting for Sarah to finish her sentence.

When the door creaked open and she and Harry had stepped inside, Harry realized that they had just practically barged into the room when he saw that they were not its only visitors.

Standing before the Headmaster's desk was Snape, whose head was turned toward the intrusion at the door. When his eyes fell upon Harry, they narrowed slightly, and his expression darkened a bit more when he saw Sarah stumble in behind him. Both Sarah and Harry looked equally embarrassed. Professor McGonagall was sitting at the desk, the surface of which was littered with many disorganized-looking stacks of parchment. Everything within the office was silent for a few agonizing moments before someone finally spoke.

"Usually," said Snape, "It is customary to knock before entering someone's professional quarters."

Harry, without risking a glance at Snape, spoke directly to McGonagall.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he began immediately, gesturing toward the door and staircase behind him, "The staircase was- I thought perhaps you were expecting us already."

"Indeed I was, Mister Potter, but Professor Snape is correct. Usually it is customary to knock," McGonagall replied, but her tone was not overly harsh.

"We can come back, Professor, I'm sorry," Harry continued to rattle off.

"It's quite alright Mister Potter, you did let me know ahead of time that you would be coming," said McGonagall. "What can I do for you?"

Harry swallowed hard and took several steps closer to the desk at which the Headmistress sat. Sarah followed after him. Somehow, Snape's presence in the room was making Harry extremely nervous in asking permission to show Sarah his home so that she could decide if she would like to stay there for the holidays. Thus far, he had been lucky not to run afoul of him in regards to his friendship with her. Even though he knew that there were a pair of sharp, black eyes boring into him, Harry was terribly careful not to meet them; if he did, he might run the risk of Snape somehow finding out that he knew of the goings-on between he and Sarah.

Sarah, blushing slightly, was also making an effort not to look at Snape for similar reasons. If she did, perhaps Professor McGonagall might somehow notice something.

"I was wondering, Professor," Harry began, in most polite-sounding tone, "If I might have permission to take Sarah to Grimmauld Place this afternoon. I want her to see it so she can decide if she'd like to come and stay for the holidays instead of staying in the castle."

McGonagall considered Harry and Sarah for a few moments; any reservations she might have had about continually granting the pair permission to leave the school grounds unsupervised was already overcome by the thought of the girl having to spend the holidays alone in the castle.

"Very well, Mister Potter, Miss Garrend, you may go," she told them. "Is that all?"

As Harry spoke to Professor McGonagall, Sarah's eyes trailed upwards to the large portrait hanging over the Headmaster's desk. There, the same old man with the long silver beard and half-moon-shaped spectacles was looking down at her, his piercing blue eyes giving her the sensation of being x-rayed.

She smiled up at him, and he smiled back down at her warmly. After she looked away, the old man's gaze shifted from Sarah to Snape and back again. Sarah would have absolutely no way of knowing just how much this clever old man had guessed in the past few seconds. Her overlarge, solid black traveling cloak, which seemed so out-of-character for a girl with such a warm smile, combined with her slight blush and obvious efforts not to look anywhere near Professor Snape, had given him a thousand clues. Perhaps he really _could_ x-ray people with those eyes of his.

"Yes, Professor, that's all," Harry said quickly. "Thank you, Professor. Sorry again."

Harry and Sarah quickly turned to leave. As he turned, Harry caught Snape's eye for just a moment.

When they had exited the office, Harry made sure to shut the door tightly behind them. Both of them hurried down the spiral staircase and out into the corridor. As soon as they had left it, the staircase began to rumble its way back down into its resting position. When they were a safe distance away, Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"He didn't look too happy about that, did he?" said Harry, beginning to take Sarah along the route that would lead them outside the castle where they could leave the grounds now that they had permission to. "He probably doesn't fancy you hanging around with me, let alone you staying with me for the holidays."

Sarah snorted in a humorous way.

"Of course he doesn't," she said. "I've told him that we're just friends, but he has a bit of a jealous streak."

"A bit?" Harry repeated, laughing a little. He knew just how deeply that _bit_ of a jealous streak ran; it had caused Snape to hate him from the very moment he came into existence. After all, Harry was living, breathing proof of Lily's preference for another man.

"I'll probably be hearing about it later," Sarah sighed.

Upon leaving the castle, both of them wrapped their scarves and cloaks closely about themselves to fend off the cold. Leaving two trails of footprints behind them in the snow, they trudged their way down the lawns until they reached the edge of the grounds. When they were a small, safe distance into the Forbidden Forest, Harry stopped and turned to Sarah. He quickly realized that she looked extremely unhappy to have ventured back within the trees where she had encountered the herd of angry Centaurs.

"I'm sorry, I forgot that you were afraid to come in here. Ready to go, then?" he asked, extending an arm to her.

Sarah nodded, locking her arm tightly in his.

A moment later, Harry turned on the spot, pulling both of them into that sensation of crushing blackness. Not even a moment later, they rematerialized on a quiet, unassuming street lined with housing. There was a light dusting of snow that had settled here too. Sarah glanced up and down the street interestedly, but quickly hurried after Harry when she realized that he was already more than halfway across the street. As she drew closer to the row of terraced homes, the strangest thing happened; another home seemed to spring into existence between Number Eleven and Number Thirteen, which she had previously not seen. She stopped in her tracks. Harry was already climbing the front stairs.

Tapping the door with his wand so it would begin unlocking itself, he turned back to Sarah who was standing dumbstruck on the sidewalk.

"What is it?" he asked.

Sarah, who had her neck craned up at the newly-appeared house before her, slowly approached the front steps.

"Don't Muggles sort of notice that?" she asked, looking back to Harry.

"It's invisible to them," Harry explained, "They don't see it. They just think there was a numbering mistake, and that Number Eleven is next to Number Thirteen."

"So this is Number Twelve, then?" asked Sarah.

"Yep," said Harry, "Welcome to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."

With this, Harry turned the door handle and stepped inside.

The house was looking better than it ever had. Because of Kreacher's metamorphosis, the house had also undergone significant change, even after the house had become spotless immediately following Kreacher's change-of-heart toward his new master. Now that the house-elf had all the time in the world to care for the home without fear of intrusion from Death Eaters, every inch was quite literally pristine. Even though the home was currently empty aside from Kreacher, the entrance hall was glowingly lit. When Harry closed the door behind them, he realized that the home felt so cozy and warm that every single fireplace must be going.

Sarah was examining the ornately decorated hall when Kreacher approached them. He was wearing a fluffy white towel and looking well-groomed, the large golden locket resting against his chest. Harry suspected that he probably never removed it from his person.

"Master!" the elf croaked, making a very low bow. He looked extremely happy. "Kreacher was not expecting to see you!"

"Hello, Kreacher," said Harry.

The elf then immediately began trying to take Harry's cloak for him.

"Please, Master, come in!" said the elf, still scrambling for Harry's cloak. "If you would wait just a short while, Kreacher could make some delicious-,"

"Actually, Kreacher," said Harry, gently disallowing the elf to take the cloak off of him, "We're just here to get something quickly, and then we'll be on our way."

Kreacher looked utterly crestfallen. Harry instantly felt guilty.

"Don't worry, Kreacher, we'll be back soon," he assured the elf. "We're going to be spending the holidays here. This is my friend Sarah," he said, gesturing to the long-haired girl next to him, whom the elf seemed not to have noticed.

Kreacher's eyes widened as he noticed the girl.

"Miss," he said, making a low bow.

"Nice to meet you, Kreacher," said Sarah, giving the elf a genuine smile, and making a small bow to him in return. Harry smiled inwardly, thinking silently to himself that Sarah probably would not have been so pleased to meet the former Kreacher.

"Ron, Hermione, and Ginny will be coming over too, after Christmas," Harry continued, knowing that he would be giving the elf something to look forward to, and lessening his own guilt for leaving so quickly after getting his hopes up. "And Sarah and I will be coming in as soon as the holiday starts, although we have to go over to the Weasleys for Christmas." As he had continued speaking, Harry noticed how Kreacher's eyes gradually lit up. They were now very wide, and filled with excitement. He would finally be having people in the house again.

"That is wonderful, Master, wonderful!" the elf proclaimed, making another bow so low that the tip of his nose touched the rug. "Kreacher is so glad to hear! Kreacher will have to start getting ready!"

Sarah and Harry both watched amusedly as the elf hurried off, rambling away about all the additional preparations he would have to make before having guests in the house. What these additional preparations might be, they had no idea; the house seemed perfect and welcoming as it was.

"He's wonderful," Sarah said, smiling at Harry.

Harry smirked a little, but it quickly turned into a smile.

"He's _something_," Harry said, but what this something might be, he did not say. "This way."

Harry led Sarah upstairs. Along the way, Sarah's eyes were glued to the walls, inspecting the many portraits and plaques which lined them. She was disappointed when Harry directed her inside a doorway, but reminded herself that she would have plenty of time to examine all of the house's interesting artifacts when she came to stay for the holidays which, after all, were not far off.

Sarah followed Harry inside the study. Just as Harry had guessed, the fireplace here was roaring, filling the room with its warmth. Harry approached the display case against the wall, and Sarah came to stand beside him. Her brow furrowed when she first looked inside of it; it was empty. When she tilted her head upward, however, she gasped. Sitting atop the very same display case which had once housed Slytherin's locket, sat a magnificent shining silver, ruby-encrusted sword. It was housed in a rectangular glass case with a wooden base. Its hilt glinted brilliantly in the firelight, and its blade gleamed. Sarah was awestruck by it. She had never seen anything that looked so beautiful and so fierce at the same time. It looked like a priceless ornament, but she knew that it possessed the capability to destroy powerful, magical things.

As Sarah continued to stare at it in wonder, Harry reached up to it, placing a hand on each side of its case. Very carefully, he lifted it off of the display case and took a couple steps back, kneeling very slowly on the floor. He then gently placed the display case down and lifted its glass exterior away from its base. Sarah continued watching the sword, marveling at how the light of the fire danced on the countless facets of its rubies. Casually, Harry grabbed by the very topmost part of its its hilt and lifted it free of its case. He then held it out to Sarah, offering her the bottom of the hilt.

"Here," he said, "Take it."

Sarah's eyes widened.

"I can touch it?" she asked. "What if I drop it?"

Harry laughed.

"I don't think there's anything you could do to this sword to damage it it any way. Here," he insisted, holding the sword closer to her so that she could take it. "Hold it while I find something that we can put it in. We can't walk down Diagon Alley waving that thing around without catching some eyes."

"I would think not," said Sarah, carefully reaching out and wrapping her right hand around the bottom of the sword's hilt. When she held it securely, Harry let go, and Sarah grasped the hilt tightly with both hands as if she were afraid of dropping it.

Harry stepped back, giving her an appraising nod.

"It looks good on you," he joked.

"I feel like I should be wearing surgical gloves or something," she said, "I don't want to tarnish it."

"It's goblin-made, you won't tarnish it," said Harry, "Trust me. Wait here while I get something."

Harry left the room, leaving Sarah holding the sword of Gryffindor. Even as she held it, she continued to admire it. It felt much lighter than a sword of its size would normally feel, she thought. She doubted she had ever touched anything so valuable in her entire life. Even though Harry had assured her that she could not possibly break it or tarnish it, she was still relieved when he returned to the room carrying an armful of course-looking linens. Resting atop the linens there appeared to be a length of string which would be used to tie up parcels.

"We'll wrap it in these," he said, dropping the linens and the string to the floor and kneeling beside them, fanning them out. "People might think it'll be broomstick parts or something."

"Alright," Sarah nodded.

Once Harry had fully laid out one of the linens, Sarah carefully placed the sword down at one end of it. Harry then carefully wrapped the sword in the entire length of linen, making sure it as as tight as he could get it. Just to be safe, he wrapped an additional linen around the first. Then, after the sword was tightly wrapped and fully concealed, he and Sarah began tying up the parcel strings to insure that the linens would not come unwrapped.

"There," said Harry, leaning back on his heels and inspecting their finished work, "That looks pretty unassuming, doesn't it?"

Sarah nodded in agreement.

"I wouldn't ever guess that a priceless, ruby-soaked artifact was wrapped in a couple of old towels unless I had seen it myself," she said.

"You carry it," said Harry, rising to his feet. "There's always a chance that people might recognize me in passing, and I don't want them to wonder what Harry Potter is carrying around in a mysterious parcel."

Nodding, Sarah carefully picked up the wrapped sword as she stood, resting it across her outstretched forearms. Then, they both left the study and began heading back down into the entrance hall. Sarah realized she would be glad to step back out into the cold; during the short time they had spent inside the fireplace-filled home while wearing their robes, cloaks, and scarves, its welcoming heat had begun to feel practically tropical.

"We're not actually going to _give_ this to him right now, are we?" asked Sarah as the descended the stairs, eyeing the course linens in her arms and remembering priceless the splendor which lay hidden underneath.

"No, we're not going to give it to him just yet," Harry explained, "But I'm fairly sure we'll need it in order to get his help. He'll have to see that we actually have it. Whether or not he really thinks he'll get to keep it this time is another story, one that I hope he believes."

When the reality of what was going to happen hit her, Sarah froze on the stairs, standing on a single step. Harry was going to just give this priceless artifact away as if it was worth nothing, all for her sake?

"Harry, do you really want to do this?" she asked, her expression serious. Harry stopped his downward progress and halted himself to look at her, his hand still resting on the railing.

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"You're going to give this away, Harry," Sarah explained. "Plain old give it away, just for my sake?"

Harry blinked. Apparently Sarah was now having reservations about their plan to use the sword as a bribe now that she had actually seen it with her own eyes.

"Of course I am," he replied. "You think I wouldn't give it away because it's worth so much?"

Sarah swallowed. She had never met someone so ready and so willing to freely give of himself, in so many ways, for the sake of his friends. She felt a pang inside her chest when she realized, too, that he had once willingly tried to sacrifice his very life for everyone he loved. Hotness began to sting the corners of her eyes, and she blinked away a couple tears before they could fully develop.

"Some things you can put a price on," Harry continued, "But other things, you can't. Don't you want to know what's hidden in that vault? Don't you want to know if your name is written on it? Don't you want to know why?" He, after all, would have gladly given away ten swords of Gryffindor, or a thousand, to know the entire truth behind the events of his life for so many years. He knew the whole truth now; he believed that Sarah deserved to know what might be the whole truth about herself, too.

"Thank you, Harry," she said softly, blinking again. This time, a couple tears rolled down her cheeks. Holding the wrapped sword with one arm for a moment, she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe.

Harry smiled warmly at her.

"It's nothing," he said, continuing down the stairs. Sarah followed after him, and he heard her sniffle slightly behind him.

As they neared the front door, they could clearly hear pots and pans busily banging away in the basement kitchen. Kreacher was already feverishly preparing for their stay over the holidays.

"See you soon, Kreacher!" Harry yelled toward the kitchen as he opened the front door. The elf yelled something back in reply, but the only word discernible amidst the clanging kitchenware was 'Master'. With a chuckle, Harry and Sarah left the house, standing on the snow-covered front step.

Sarah looked to Harry, wondering why he didn't continue on down the steps into the street. He looked back at her, his expression normal.

"It's safe to Disapparate from here," he explained. "No one can see us."

Sarah swallowed hard. Harry's fascinating home, kindly house-elf, and seeing the beautiful sword of Gryffindor had distracted her from her nervousness about her first solo Apparition. He noticed as she paled visibly.

"It'll be alright," he assured her again, "You've got to try sometime."

Sarah took a deep, shaky breath.

"Are you sure you want me to hold the sword while doing it?" she asked, sounding uncertain. "What if I end up in the wrong place, and-,"

"You hold onto it," Harry said, smiling, "After all, it's Gryffindor's sword, isn't it? It'll give you courage. Besides, it's some extra motivation. You've got to get that sword safely to Diagon Alley somehow, right?"

"I guess so," Sarah reluctantly agreed, but she still sounded extremely uncertain.

"Just relax," Harry told her, stepping aside to give her a bit more room for her own comfort, "It's just like before. Clearly picture the place where you want to go, and then step into that wonky feeling of nothingness. You'll be there before you even know it. I'll be right behind you."

Taking Harry's words to heart, Sarah took another deep breath. Then, hugging the wrapped sword closely to her body as if she were afraid to lose it en route, she closed her eyes. A moment later, when she was certain that she couldn't possibly picture the small London alleyway on Charing Cross any more vividly, she took another deep breath. Holding it, she turned on the spot, stepping forward into the crushing blackness. Harry watched her disappear from the step with a faint _pop_.

She was relieved when she felt the familiar sensations of Apparition, just like when she had been practicing in Hogsmeade. She was at once certain that she had managed to Disapparate. She just hoped she would end up in the right place.

Only an instant later, she felt her lungs expand mercifully. Eyes still shut tight, she exhaled the breath she had been holding and began breathing normally again. She squeezed the wrapped sword with her arms; it was still there. She didn't feel any pain or feel as if she was missing something, so she hadn't splinched. Slowly opening her eyes, she could not help but smile widely when she immediately recognized her surroundings as her target destination. She had reached the small alleyway along Charing Cross Road.

A few seconds later, there came a faint _crack_ from behind her. She wheeled around to see Harry had appeared, and he was already smiling at her.

"You've done it!" Harry exclaimed, taking in Sarah's obvious state of sheer elation. If she had splinched at all, she probably would not look quite as happy as she did. "Didn't I tell you? Brilliant, well done!"

"I did have some good teachers," Sarah beamed.

Upon leaving the alleyway, the pair discovered that London was just as gray and chilly as it always seemed to be. The same light dusting of snow which had been present at Grimmauld Place was present here as well, but the steady foot traffic of the busier London streets had already cleared wide walking paths on the pavement of the sidewalks. As they walked along, Sarah continued hugging the wrapped sword tightly to her person as if she were trying to hide it from view entirely. If they passed by any Muggles, Sarah hugged the sword even tighter and eyed them suspiciously, making sure that they were not doing the same to her.

When they finally reached Diagon Alley, Sarah felt a bit more at ease. It would probably be slightly less strange, she imagined, to be spotted carrying an ancient, priceless, goblin-made sword down the street here than in the middle of Muggle London. She relaxed her hold on the sword as they proceeded down toward the end of the street where Gringotts lay, letting the the wrapped package rest across the crooks of her arms. The street was fairly quiet for a Friday afternoon; it was already late enough for the lunch crowds to have cleared out, but not yet late enough for people freshly off of work for the weekend to start coming out to the shops and pubs.

Neither of them said a word as they drew closer and closer to the enormous snowy white building looming at the end of the street. Sarah could sense that Harry was deep in thought about what exactly he was going to say in order to make this a successful bargain. Dealing with goblins, as he had told her, was very serious. As they scaled the bank's marble steps, she was fairly nervous.

As they entered the large bank hall, Harry stopped, and Sarah stopped alongside him. The bank was just as impressive as it had been on her previous visits; counters lined with tellers stretched out along either side of the shining marble floor. She had her head tilted up at the high, vaulted ceiling as Harry scanned the teller windows on both sides of the bank. Fortunately the bank did not seem to be very busy this afternoon. When he had located their person of interest, who was currently serving a very tall bearded wizard wearing a top hat, he nudged Sarah gently.

"There he is," he said softly to her. Sarah looked to him and nodded.

Together they proceeded forward, coming to stand behind the tall bearded wizard who Griphook was currently dealing with. Sarah once again hugged the sword to her form protectively. Harry was making it a point to face away from the counter so that he would not be spotted prematurely. If Griphook were to see just exactly who his next customer was before it was even Harry's turn to be served, there might be problems. Sarah glanced at him nervously, but Harry was trying to appear as casual and nonchalant as possible and did not return her look.

A few minutes later, it was time.

"Thank you," they heard the tall bearded wizard say, nodding to the goblin before him. He then gathered up his belongings and stepped away from the counter.

When the wizard had left, Harry slowly took a couple steps backwards toward the counter, not yet revealing his identity.

"Good afternoon, sir, how may I-?" Griphook began, his expression neutral. Before he could finish his sentence, Harry turned around to face him. His expression darkened dangerously when he saw who it was standing before him.

Sarah followed Harry, approaching the counter cautiously, a bit frightened by the goblin's sudden dangerous change in demeanor.

"Harry Potter," the goblin spat out tersely, his lips tight. He then glanced nervously to either side of him, making sure that none of his colleagues were within earshot. His previous dealings with Harry had to remain completely secret. It would be disastrous for him in many ways if it were to be discovered that he helped to engineer the bank's break-in fiasco earlier in the year. He had only barely managed to cover himself up and return to his job as it was.

"Griphook, I need speak with you," Harry said, his tone even and stern. It sounded like more of a demand than a request.

He was met with a snarl from the goblin.

"Absolutely not!" the goblin spat, his expression severe, "What do you wish to do, expose me and what I've done to the goblin community? I will have no further dealings with you, Harry Potter!"

During his heated exchange with Harry, the goblin had not so much as glanced to the girl standing next to him at the counter who was holding what looked to be a very long package. Harry took a deep, steadying breath, and then, without saying another word to Griphook, he looked to Sarah.

Sarah looked back at him eyes wide, and saw him give her a tiny nod. Griphook, having now taken notice of the girl and her silent communication with Harry, affixed his eyes to her with a sort of impatient interest. Without needing any explanation whatsoever from Harry, Sarah, aware of Griphook's eyes on her, brought the wrapped package up in front of her. Gripping the wrapped blade tightly with her left hand, she gently pushed up the linen surrounding the hilt, offering the goblin a glimpse of its ruby-encrusted beauty.

Griphook's eyes, which had been ablaze with anger, were now alight with greed. He leaned forward, and for a moment, Harry protectively stepped closer to Sarah for fear that Griphook may reach out and try to take it from her.

After only an instant, Sarah once again concealed the sword's hilt, and hugged its wrapped form to her protectively. Griphook's expression of unadulterated greed instantly melted back into one of rage even more intense than before.

"How dare you!" Griphook spat. He was extremely upset, but he could do little more than stew quietly in his own anger or risk drawing the attention of his colleagues. "That belongs to me!" he said, but it was a strangled whisper.

"Yet it would appear that it is in _my_ possession, not yours," Harry stated. Griphook was radiating intense waves of anger directly at Harry, but Harry did not budge. Instead, he returned Griphook's snarl with a steely stare full of determination. His demand was floating wordlessly between them.

Sarah was frightened. Although Harry looked completely calm, Sarah saw that his right hand had slowly and imperceptibly inched toward the robe pocket where his wand lay.

"The nerve," Griphook seethed, still glaring at Harry. Every few seconds, however, his eyes would noticeably dart to glance at the nondescript package held securely in the girl's arms.

"Fine!" Griphook said at last. He then quickly reached inside a breast pocket and withdrew a small slip of paper. "Meet me here in an hour when my shift is up!" He thrust the small slip of paper onto the counter before Harry. Without another word, he hopped off of his teller's stool, his short stature causing him to vanish from view entirely.

Harry quickly snatched up the small slip of paper and pocketed it. He stepped away from the counter and headed for the doors, and Sarah followed after him, gripping the wrapped sword tightly. As they went, both of them looked warily at the tellers on either side of the bank hall. No one was regarding them strangely or paying them any extra mind; it seemed that even though they had a bit of an exchange with Griphook, they hadn't attracted any unwanted attention.

When they reached the bottom of the bank's steps back onto the street outside, both of them breathed large sighs of relief.

"Well, that went about as well as we could have hoped for, I think," said Harry, reaching inside his robe pocket to retrieve the small slip of paper which Griphook had given him.

"Are you kidding?" said Sarah, looking back up the steps toward the bank's door, "I thought he was going to kill you."

"Me too," said Harry, examining the small slip of paper. "Let's not put that notion entirely out of mind for the moment."

"Where does he want us to meet him?" asked Sarah, leaning toward Harry in an attempt to read what was written on the slip. When she got a closer look, she could see that it resembled a Muggle business card. The lettering was in red and black, and there was a small, fire-breathing creature depicted on it.

"The Chimera's Breath Tavern, apparently," said Harry, showing her the card. "In Knockturn Alley."

"Sounds lovely," Sarah said wryly.

"Probably about as lovely as Griphook," Harry groused, slipping the small card back in his pocket. "Let's go."

Directing Sarah toward a dark, nearby side street which lead away from Diagon Alley, they entered Knockturn Alley.

* * *

Sarah found Knockturn Alley to be as dark, dingy, and frightening as Harry had on his first accidental visit. It seemed to have its own aura of darkness emanating from it, shrouding it in shadow no matter how brightly the sun was shining. Even though the sun was not shining on this particular day, Knockturn Alley was still markedly darker in light, as well as atmosphere, than Diagon Alley had been. It was full of seedy looking pubs and seedier looking people. When they first ventured inside, Sarah walked so closely to Harry that they almost tripped several times, and she hugged the sword to her person so protectively that she thought her arms may have gone numb.

They found the Chimera's Breath easily enough on the Alley's main thoroughfare. Before stepping inside, Harry wordlessly grabbed the hood of Sarah's traveling cloak and pulled it over her head. She looked at him quizzically from underneath it, watching as he pulled up his own hood as well.

"Don't need any _Prophet_ headlines about 'Harry Potter and friend spotted in infamous Knockturn Alley pub', do we?" he explained.

"Good point," she said, watching as he slowly pushed open the door. Only after he had fully stepped inside did she follow after him.

The pub was dark, but not completely empty. There were three men sitting at a table somewhat close to the bar, conversing in hushed tones. Another figure, who was completely cloaked, sat at the bar, taking a long swig out of a large tankard. The barkeep, Harry thought, made Tom, the wizened landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, look like Gilderoy Lockhart in comparison. They quickly moved along over to a small table, the furthest away from the bar, and the furthest away from the door.

When the barkeep came over a few minutes later to ask what they would like, both of them kept their hoods pulled down extremely low. Harry, in a falsely gruff-sounding voice, requested two large versions of the most potently alcoholic beverage in the house. With a nod, the barkeep left them. Sarah immediately looked to Harry.

"It's not even dinnertime yet," she whispered, "Do you really want to get drunk?"

Harry shook his head underneath his hood. Even under its concealment, combined with the darkness of the pub, Sarah could tell that he was smiling.

"We can't look like a couple of tarts sipping butterbeer," he whispered back, "This isn't the Three Broomsticks. People would stare."

"Oh, right," said Sarah. She then began to discreetly inspect the other patrons from underneath the safety of her hood.

The three men sitting at the table near the bar, she noticed, all looked a little strange. Even in the darkness, from what she could tell, their skin bore a distinctly grayish tint, and their eyes seemed to gleam with an otherworldly luster. Their beverages looked like something suspiciously similar to tomato juice.

"Those guys look like vampires or something," she observed jokingly to Harry, her voice a whisper.

Harry looked over, inspecting the three men.

"They probably are," he whispered back.

Sarah sat straight up in her chair and looked stiff for a while.

The hour wait until Griphook's shift would apparently be over was a long one. Sarah and Harry sat boredly at their table, their heads tilted down and their hoods pulled down low. They continued watching the other patrons. The three strange men by the bar continued conversing in hushed tones, and ordering more rounds of their thick, red drinks. A few other people came and went, but nothing noteworthy happened.

After a while, out of boredom, Harry watched as Sarah daringly took a small sip of the drink that the barkeep had brought them. The drinks were orange and slightly bubbling, poured into tall glasses. After Sarah had taken a tiny sip, her nails scraped the surface of the wooden table.

"It tastes like fire," she choked out. Although Harry could not see with her head turned down and the hood covering her face, she was grimacing and her eyes were watering.

Harry chuckled.

It was some time later when the door to the pub creaked open noisily, and someone with an obviously less-than-human stature came inside. Harry and Sarah looked up with interest. Griphook didn't even need to search around the pub in order to locate them; it was as if he could sense where the ancient goblin artifact was, and naturally gravitated to it. Without a word, he seated himself at the available chair across from them at their table. His eyes were immediately on the wrapped package, which Sarah was now holding across her lap.

"What is this about," he demanded immediately, without giving Harry or Sarah a chance to speak. Apparently, none of his anger from their confrontation in the bank had subsided. "You have something that belongs to me."

"Not exactly, no," Harry insisted.

"You cheated me out of it," the goblin snarled, "Just like every other wizard, unable to keep his word."

"I kept my word," Harry countered, "You left the bank with the sword that day."

"And afterward?" Griphook demanded, still eager to know the reasons behind the sword's sudden and inexplicable disappearance from his own possession shortly after he acquired it.

"Apparently," Harry began slowly, "The sword of Gryffindor will present itself to worthy Gryffindors who are in need of it, via the Sorting Hat." It sounded absurd, but it really was the truth. He just hoped that Griphook would believe it.

"So you gave me the sword, and then summoned it back to you!" Griphook growled, pointing a long, accusatory finger at Harry. "You were planning that from the beginning, weren't you?"

Harry shook his head in the negative.

"I didn't summon the sword," he explained, "It wasn't me, and it definitely wasn't what I was planning on having happen."

"Then who did?" Griphook demanded.

"Another Gryffindor student," Harry went on, "And it turned out to be instrumental in the final battle against Voldemort. It was used to help bring him down. You should be grateful that the sword left your possession to help put an end to him once and for all."

The goblin cringed slightly upon hearing Voldemort's name, but he remained silent. His expression of anger did not fade. Harry knew that he was probably biting back on saying something to the effect of not caring about the problems of wizards. Still, his greedy glances at the package across Sarah's lap made obvious that he still greatly desired the sword. Perhaps he feared that if he upset Harry too badly, that he would just walk away with it.

"What is it that you want, Harry Potter?" Griphook inquired at last. He looked a bit calmer now, but his voice still had an edge to it.

"I need to get into Gringotts again," Harry stated matter-of-factly.

Griphook's eyes bulged. He looked livid.

"Preposterous! Absolutely not!" Griphook shouted, banging his fist to the table. "The goblins have had enough of your thievery!"

"We'll give you the sword," said Harry, "No strings attached."

"And who is to say it won't be summoned out of my hands again!" the goblin contested.

"Voldemort is dead and gone," said Harry calmly, "_You_ think about it. The first time I summoned the sword, I used it to kill a basilisk. The second time it was pulled out of the hat, it was used to kill Voldemort's snake. Compared to that, I doubt anyone is going to need the sword for anything anytime soon, don't you think?"

Griphook looked as if he were fighting a fierce internal battle. On one hand, helping to engineer another break-in to Gringotts could wind up getting him killed, and went against every honorable notion he had as a member of the goblin race, and as an employee of the bank. On the other hand, there was the sword of Gryffindor; a priceless, goblin-made artifact, forged by Ragnuk the First. It should not be in the hands of a wizard. The very notion of such an object belonging to wizards was repugnant. Plus, this time, it seemed as if there was somewhat of a guarantee that the sword would remain with him instead of disappearing.

Harry and Sarah watched hopefully as the goblin seemed to undergo the silent struggle.

"So let me get this straight," Griphook said at last, his tone harsh, "You intend to offer me something that already belongs to me as a bribe for my help in gaining access to the bank once again?"

The goblin gave a derisive snort. He could hardly believe what was being asked of him. The nerve of some wizards.

"That's right," Harry affirmed.

"Why," the goblin countered. It was a demand, not a question.

"We believe there is something within the Ministry's vault which pertains to my friend here," said Harry, motioning to Sarah, "And we want to find out what. Any more than that we really can't say."

"_The Ministry's Vault?_" Griphook repeated, sounding incredulous. "Have you a death wish, Potter?"

"Do you want the sword or not?" Harry pressed, his tone serious.

Griphook silently considered the pair on the other side of the table. The girl sitting next to Potter hadn't so much as said a word. In fact, it looked as if she were frightened of him. When she met his stare, she quickly looked away. He couldn't in good conscience consent to aiding another break-in. He shouldn't be agreeing to Potter's outrageous terms.

The Goblin's eyes suddenly narrowed at Harry as he thought more closely about what he had said.

"It was you, wasn't it," the goblin said, his voice low. His gaze shifted to Sarah, and then back to Harry. "You two broke into the Ministry back in the fall. You didn't get what you wanted, and now you want to finish the job."

Harry bit down on the side of his cheek, and Sarah shifted nervously. It was clear that Griphook was dangerously astute.

"What's to stop me from revealing you then, Harry Potter?" said Griphook lowly, his glare cold. "Revealing you unless you hand over what is truly mine."

"Probably the fact that if you did, I would reveal the _inside help_ that I had when breaking into the bank before," replied Harry, meeting the goblin's cold stare with one of equal intensity. He hated himself for saying it, but he pressed on, "I'm a hero, remember? Who are they more likely to believe? Who is more likely to take the fall? The Chosen One? The Boy Who Lived? Or a Gringotts goblin making crazy accusations about him?"

Sarah watched as the goblin's expression soured. Harry had him beat.

After several moments of pointed silence, Harry spoke again.

"If you want the sword, Griphook, you'll have to help me again," he said. "Only this time, you'll get to keep it."

After a long pause, the goblin spoke.

"Very well," he said, but sounded none too happy about it.

Harry reached inside the pocket of his robes, withdrawing the small card which Griphook had given him earlier. Turning it over to the back where there was nothing written, Harry took out his wand and tapped the card's blank surface. The words _Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place_ appeared on it, as if written very neatly in ink. After sliding the card across the table to the goblin, Harry wasted no time in explaining that Griphook was to call on them on the first Saturday of the school's holidays. There they would be able to plan in safety and secrecy.

After receiving his instructions, the goblin gave a curt nod and left the pub without another word. Leaving a couple galleons on the table behind them to pay for their mostly untouched drinks, Harry and Sarah left as well.

Stepping back out into Diagon Alley was like a breath of fresh air, both literally and figuratively. They then began making their way back to the Leaky Cauldron, through which they could reach the alleyway where they could Disapparate.

"That was actually a lot easier than I expected it to be," Harry said as they walked along, sounding relieved. As it was nearing suppertime, the sky was darkening significantly. Some of the street lamps were already lit.

"Do you think he'll come?" Sarah asked, eyeing the wrapped sword in her arms. "He didn't seem too happy about it."

"Any reservations he might have about doing it will be overcome by his greed, I think," Harry said, also glancing to the package, "He really wants that thing, and he'll do anything to get it. We're going to have to be careful when we deal with him again."

"I can tell," Sarah replied, "I was afraid he was going to attack you, more than once."

"Me too," Harry admitted.

Most of their apprehension about their further upcoming dealings with the goblin were forgotten when they reached the streets of Muggle London once again, and Harry suggested that Sarah attempt to Apparate back to Grimmauld Place on her own so that they could return the sword. Reluctantly taking him up on his suggestion, Sarah was thrilled when she once again succeeded at the task. Still feeling uncomfortable about Apparating so close to an area where it is prevented, Harry took her by Side-Along back to the grounds outside the school. When they neared the castle, an impromptu snowball fight broke out while they both hurried up the snow-covered lawns toward the Great Hall, and the warm supper and friends that were awaiting them.


	21. Disaster

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 21: Disaster.

* * *

After dinner was over, Sarah bid her friends good evening and began making her way down to the dungeons for her lesson. It was not until she was strolling down the dark, chilly corridors by herself that she really began to think about the events of that afternoon. She had been too nervous and preoccupied with Apparating by herself for the first time, and also about dealing with Griphook. She had all but forgotten the tension which occurred in Professor McGonagall's office while Harry, in the presence of Snape, had asked the Headmistress' permission to show her his home for her holiday stay. Sarah took a deep breath and began thinking of ways she could possibly diffuse the situation. She was also hoping, however unlikely it might be, that Severus had forgotten all about it.

As she reached the door to his office, she opened it herself and entered without knocking, as was now customary and acceptable between them. She proceeded casually into the room. He was seated at his desk as usual, dressed in his normal teaching robes, going through an assortment of parchment laid out before him. He seemed to have taken no notice to the girl's presence. It wasn't until she drew right up to the edge of his desk that he raised his eyes to look at her.

"Good evening," he said neutrally, his tone smooth.

Sarah cocked her head slightly. It wasn't exactly a cold reception, but it was a far departure from his usual behavior, where his eyes were attentive of her every move from the moment she stepped in the door, greedily drinking her in constantly. He definitely hadn't forgotten about what happened in Professor McGonagall's office. Taking a steadying breath, Sarah attempted to diffuse his sour mood.

"You'll never guess what I did today," she said, smiling.

"Went gallivanting about unsupervised with Potter yet again?" Snape drawled, his voice dripping with dislike and jealousy. Before Sarah could retort, he once again turned his attention back to the parchment on his desk.

Sarah bit the inside of her lip. Ignoring his comment for the moment, she pressed on.

"I Apparated to somewhere and back, all by myself. No Side-Along at all," she said proudly.

Snape's eyes widened, and he looked up at her immediately. He had not been aware that the girl was learning Apparition.

"And where, pray tell, did you acquire that little skill?" he asked dryly, already knowing the answer.

"My friends," Sarah replied, "Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny have all been teaching me when we go to Hogsmeade on the weekends."

"So," Snape said, rising from his chair swiftly. Its legs scraped harshly against the stone floor. He now sounded displeased. "Potter has been teaching you to Apparate illegally, has he?"

Sarah watched him as he rose from his chair and rounded his desk, his arms folded across his chest. He looked down at her as he approached her, his expression severe. Her heart jumped into her throat; never since they had first interacted with each other months ago had he looked at her so menacingly. Until now, she had forgotten just how much she feared his anger.

"Well I can't exactly walk into the Ministry and ask for a license, can I?" she replied, careful to keep her tone as non-confrontational as possible. The last thing she needed was for him to feel that she was challenging him in some way.

"It was irresponsible," Snape continued, his voice rising in volume, "You are lucky to not have been killed while trying to learn something so dangerous with a bunch of _children_ as teachers."

Sarah jerked forward slightly in reflex, tempted to retort that none of her friends were children, but she remained silent.

For several more moments, Snape continued staring down at the girl in his anger. At least he was now at a point where he could honestly admit to himself that he wasn't truly all that angry about her learning Apparition illegally; although he would never admit it aloud, he was more angered by her decision to choose Potter as a teacher for such an important skill, and most importantly by her decision to not tell him about it. If she wasn't telling him about learning Apparition with Potter, what else might she not be telling him?

These thoughts raced through his mind as he observed the girl before him. Her neck had receded submissively into her shoulders, and her expression was a mixture of fear and disappointment. With an effort, he took a deep breath. _She was expecting me to be pleased with her for learning to Apparate,_ he thought to himself, _and instead, I've frightened her again._ After a few calming breaths, his expression became more gentle.

"I could have taught you," he said to her softly. As he spoke, he reached out to her and placed his hands on her shoulders reassuringly. "You need only to have asked."

Sarah's expression melted into one of relief as she looked up at him.

"You're teaching me so much already," she said, "I couldn't possibly ask you to teach me anything more."

"There is no limit to what I can teach you," he said, his voice almost a whisper. The fingers of his right hand stroked her jawline affectionately. The girl blushed deeply.

Everything seeming to have been repaired between them for the moment, Snape took a small step away from her.

"Shall we begin, then?" he asked.

He was about to take a major risk. As he did some time ago, he was once again going to shift the evening's lesson plan to Occlumency. His fears and jealousy could not truly be put to rest unless he again saw for himself what was going on inside the girl's mind pertaining to Potter. Last time, she had correctly deduced his true motive behind having an Occlumency lesson. Fortunately, she had not become angry. This time, he would phrase it to her differently and, ever the Slytherin, still be able to work toward his own ends.

Sarah nodded in reply.

"I am sure you recall our Occlumency lesson some time ago," he began casually, "We barely scratched its surface, but I feel that you have at least grasped a solid understanding of its basic principle to be able to expand your studies on it quite easily. It was an introduction, of sorts. Tonight, we will be doing the same thing with its counterpart. An introduction."

"To Legilimency?" Sarah asked, trying to mask her sudden onset of nervousness. Thus far, she had been fortunate enough to steer her tutelage away from these particular subjects since her first experience with Snape probing into her mind. It had been a lingering fear that the subjects would someday resurface. After all, she had quite a bit of incriminating information tucked away inside her mind. She swallowed hard.

"Yes," Snape replied, "It is impossible to fully understand Occlumency or Legilimency by themselves without learning about the other. Tonight you will be attempting to penetrate _my_ mind."

Sarah's eyes widened, some of the color draining from her face. She might as well have just been told that she would be attempting to break into a Gringotts vault with a toothpick. She knew full well what an accomplished Occlumens he was reputed to be. At least this meant that he wouldn't be poking around in _her_ mind... or so she thought.

"Will you at least go easy on me?" she asked. "It's not exactly a level playing field."

The corner of Snape's lip twitched into a tiny smile.

"I'll see what I can do," he told her smoothly. "Do you recall the spoken incantation?"

"Legilimens," Sarah recited, remembering all too well the fear that had accompanied that word when she was fighting to conceal her more incriminating memories from him.

"Very good," he nodded, watching the girl as she positioned herself several paces away from him. He leaned up against his desk, relaxed. "There are two elements to this little lesson, however. If you manage to gain access to my mind, you have essentially made your mind vulnerable to _me_ if I were to be able to turn the tables on you. You must also be able to keep me from pushing you back into your own mind along with me, and should I gain access to your mind, to shut me out with Occlumency. Do you think you can do that?"

Sarah's heart was racing. Fear would be too light a word to describe what she was experiencing. She was only a beginner at this type of magic; how did he honestly expect her to be able to accomplish all of that? She had only gotten off clean last time by being able to successfully distract him, and he would no doubt not fall for that trick twice. Were his same ulterior motives for their last Occlumency lesson at work here? Did he just want to be sure that she was not fooling around with other young men like Harry? If so, Sarah knew somewhere deep inside that refusing to participate would be tantamount to the admittance of infidelity in Snape's mind. She would have to play along.

"I'll try," she said meekly, already afraid to meet his eyes with her own lest every secret in every corner of her mind be revealed to him.

Cognizant as ever of every detail in the girl's behavior, her obvious air of nervousness did not go unnoticed by Snape.

"You may begin whenever you are ready," he told her, his black eyes studiously watching her every movement. "You need not give me the advanced warning that I gave you, I shall be prepared. Begin when ready."

Slipping her hand inside her robes, Sarah withdrew her wand. She took a deep breath.

"Are you sure I'm ready for this?" she chanced, one last slim thread of hope to avoid exposing her mind to him once again.

Snape gave a single, slow nod, still leaning up against his desk in a relaxed pose.

"Of course," he replied, "This is no different than any other field of magic that you have excelled in thus far, and remarkably less dangerous as well."

A small shiver ran down Sarah's spine at his words. _Remarkably __**more**__ dangerous, for me, actually,_ she thought to herself.

Sarah raised her wand to his eye level. When she spoke the incantation, her eyes were directed at his boots, and it was completely without any true focus or conviction.

"_Legilimens_," she said.

Instantaneously, she felt as if her head hit a solid wall of brick. Eyes shut tight, she staggered backwards, only remaining upright with extreme difficulty. When she opened her eyes again, Snape was still leaning up against his desk relaxedly, his eyes on her. She huffed out a sigh.

"Do you recall the importance of eye contact to employ Legilimency?" he asked, watching the girl stagger back to the center of the office with some concern. "Without it, you are almost literally running blindly into a wall, as I am sure you noticed." It was all too obvious now that the girl was extremely fearful of him gaining access to her mind once again. This made him even more eager to look inside for himself, but he would have to be patient.

"I can see that, yeah," she said gruffly. Sighing again, she raised her wand toward him. This time, she locked his dark, black eyes in her gaze.

"_Legilimens_," she spoke again.

Fortunately, the sensation of ramming her head into a brick wall was absent. Instead, the entirety of Snape's office seemed to stretch away from her and fade into nothingness. It seemed as if she were in a completely different place. Everything about her was a complete haze. She could see nothing, and hear nothing. The emptiness swirled around her in a smoky, indistinguishable fog. Maybe she had entered Snape's mind, she thought, but she had no idea what she was supposed to be doing next.

_"Hello?"_ she couldn't help but blurt out. Her voice echoed infinitely inside her own mind and without.

Only a moment later, there was an invisible force pushing on her. Snape's office re-congealed itself around her weirdly, leaving her dazed. When she looked up at Snape, he was exactly as he had been a few seconds ago, lounging against his desk, his eyes intently on her. The corner of his lip twitched again.

"What did I just do?" she asked, glancing around at the office's walls. She knew that it was extremely unlikely that they had spontaneously melted away into a strange, empty void. She must have done _something_ right.

"You did exactly what you thought you did," Snape replied, "And I must admit that I found your confusion amusing."

Sarah nodded once; apparently Snape had heard every thought she produced in her own mind while inside his. She also knew that he had hadn't actually _gained_ access to Snape's mind on her own power so much as she had been let inside without any resistance. After all, if Voldemort hadn't even been successful at it, what chance could she possibly stand against his mental defenses?

"This time," he continued, "When you find yourself in that place again, do not lose focus. Begin searching. Apply your mental focus as much as you possibly can. Make the haze disappear and reveal thoughts and memories."

Sarah nodded again, taking another deep breath in an attempt to slow her racing heart. She knew it was only a matter of time until Snape attempted to push her out of his mind and back into her own, forcing her to try and block him out. She raised her wand, locking eyes with him.

"_Legilimens_,"

She was immediately in the middle of the fog again. Focusing as hard as she could, she attempted to peer _through_ the fog this time, instead of being content only to stare at it. As she did, she began to see flickers of movement beyond the fog in places. Intently redirecting her focus to these tiny flickers, she peered even harder, determined to see something more than nothingness. As soon as she did, memories raced forward toward her, and she was suddenly in them, as vivid as reality. She was once again seeing the same bizarre, fast-forwarded movie reel, but from the opposite perspective. These memories and perspectives were not her own. She watched as Snape sat uneasily in the stands on the Quidditch pitch, watching her first attempts to pilot a broom; a moment later, Snape was simply sitting at his desk, grading parchments; a moment later, he was standing in Professor McGonagall's office, conversing with her, but about what Sarah could not hear... Then, the invisible force was pushing hard against her, and the memories raced away from her, receding back into fog.

She abruptly found herself back in reality, standing in the center of Snape's office. Despite all the memories she had just seen racing by as vivid as reality, nothing here had changed. Snape was leaning against his desk, still watching her. Sarah blinked at him.

"Good," he told her, "That time you were able to reach a few memories. I was, however, able to force you out quite quickly and completely. This time, I want you to not only focus on accessing thoughts and memories, but also focus on staying there. Attempt to resist my efforts to push you out."

Sarah nodded but did not give a verbal reply. Again, she locked eyes with him and raised her wand.

"_Legilimens_,"

The fog surrounded her again. Without wasting any time, she peered into it intently, her focus strong. Soon, memories were once again racing forward at her, and she was suddenly inside them. Snape was sitting before the fire in his study, reading a book and sipping firewhiskey; a moment later, he was in his office, all of his potionmaking equipment and supplies laid out in full array as he worked on brewing a complex potion; next, Sarah watched as he was seated at the staff table on one of those rare occasions he had gone to a meal in the Great Hall instead of taking a meal in his rooms... Before she could view anything else, the invisible force had returned. It was pulling on her firmly, causing the memories she had been viewing so vividly to begin fading away from her as if by distance, shrinking away back into the fog.

Sarah registered the force's presence immediately and gave a great heave of focus, keeping her eyes on those memories shrinking into the distance, attempting to bring herself into them once more. This caused them to momentarily draw closer to her again, the fog clearing, but the force's persistence thwarted her small progress. She was being dragged backwards by it. The memories again faded back into nothingness and she found herself once again staring into the haze without even the slightest thing to discern. She quickly found herself back in Snape's office.

"A bit better that time," he told her. "You managed to resist momentarily. Now that you know what it requires, you will be able to do it more successfully."

Now it was time to get down to business and do what he really wanted.

"This time," he continued, "I will not only stop when I push you back out into reality. I will push you back inside your own mind, and I will follow, until you can employ Occlumency to push me out, or prevent me gaining access to begin with. Do you understand?"

Sarah simply nodded again. It unnerved her that Snape looked so completely relaxed.

Snape watched calmly as the girl raised her wand again, pointing it at his eye level. In truth, he wasn't calm at all. He felt terribly angry with himself for what he was about to do, but the jealous and possessive side of him would not let him rest until it had been done. He would allow the girl into his mind again, yes, and show her more mundane memories of everyday activities, but when he would push her back out and begin probing her mind in turn, he had no intention of letting her push him out until he had seen what he wanted to see. The fear of the girl's reactions loomed over him. Surely she would realize what he was doing. She might very well become cross with him afterward. His possessiveness and jealousy, however, won out on any reservations he had.

He heard her speak the incantation.

"_Legilimens_,"

Sarah found herself in the fog again, and she was immediately focused, actively pushing through it to access the memories and thoughts which lay beyond. She made quick progress this time, and soon she was observing Snape teaching one of his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, strolling up and down the classroom as he lectured his students, Sarah noting idly that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in the classroom. Sarah might have laughed aloud in Snape's mind when she observed Harry and Ron passing humorous notes back and forth, while Hermione scribbled away feverishly as she took down Snape's words. Next, Snape was patrolling the corridors of the school late at night, on the prowl for students breaking curfew... Sooner than she had expected, Sarah felt the invisible force pressing on her once again, dragging her away from the memories that she had been examining, making them fade away before her.

She struggled against it as hard as she could, but felt as if she were running in place and making no progress. The memories continued to distance themselves from her, becoming fuzzy and indistinguishable. They faded more slowly this time as she struggled, but she could not seem to regain whatever footing she had in Snape's mind. The memories slipped away into nothingness, and the force was still pushing on her.

This time, Snape's office did not reappear around her. The force continued pushing on her, pushing her back so far that she would soon be inside her own mind, watching in terror as Snape reigned free in her thoughts.

She attempted to steady her mind as much as possible.

_Don't panic,_ she told herself silently, _Don't panic._

She tried to blank her mind completely, and make it into the same hazy, indistinguishable place that she had inhabited inside Snape's mind.

Snape was determined. He hesitated momentarily, his conscience nagging him again, but his fears and jealousy would not allow him to stop now, not after he had gone this far. After his moment of hesitation, he easily pushed past the girl's weak attempt to empty her mind. She was quite obviously ridden with nerve, and it was her undoing. He waded through her mind with ease, searching for anything to do with Potter. He immediately came upon several memories of time spent alone with Potter, but as they contained no physical content, he glossed over them quickly; he watched as she and Potter took tea with Hagrid in his hut; he came across several memories of their secret Apparition lessons in Hogsmeade...

As Snape methodically searched through her mind, Sarah was paralyzed. She had attempted with all her might to keep him from getting in, and now she was futilely trying to push him out. She was sure that her mental protests could not possibly go unnoticed by him. She realized then that he must have no designs whatsoever of leaving her mind until he had seen everything he wanted to see, and that the catalyst for it was her frequent time spent alone with Harry. She watched, helpless, as Snape riffled through her mind, unrelenting in his hold on her.

Snape continued searching for every thought or memory having to do with Potter, even seeing again some of the memories which he had seen previously when probing her mind many months ago. When he reached one particular memory, however, he became confused. There he was with Sarah, locked in a passionate embrace inside his storeroom. Potter was not in this memory, yet he had come upon this memory before when searching the girl's mind for anything pertaining to Potter. Why had this memory come up when he was searching for Potter? He had to delve deeper. Using his best skills as a Legilimens, Snape pressed deeper into the girl's mind, searching for any memory or thought related to this particular one, trying to discern why it would come to the surface when he was searching for anything about Potter.

Sarah screamed inside her own mind.

Snape was watching. He saw Potter sitting upon the girl's bed in her room, handing over to her what appeared to be a small bottle...

A small bottle of...

_Polyjuice Potion?_

That was _his_ bottle of Polyjuice Potion, the small bottle in which he had stored the remnants of Slughorn's brewing. The small bottle of Polyjuice Potion which was always kept safe and secure...

_Inside my storeroom..._

How could Potter have come to possess _his_ Polyjuice Potion from within _his_ secure storeroom?

Snape observed the storeroom memory again, more closely; something had silently and unnoticeably disappeared from one of the shelves.

Watching in indescribable shock, Snape delved even deeper; Sarah was in a London alleyway, directing a stunning spell at a passerby; some invisible force dragged the man's unconscious body into the alleyway and through a doorway; Potter ripped off his invisibility cloak and tossed it to Sarah; Potter was now transforming into the likeness of the unconscious man, and Sarah donned the invisibility cloak, following Potter into...

_The Ministry of Magic?_

"_No,_" Snape spoke aloud, echoing in Sarah's mind. He pressed on, viewing the entire memory in detail as Sarah watched, helpless, a silent prisoner inside her own mind. The sheer amount of adrenaline and terror in her system made the entire memory pass by in excruciating slowness.

When the memory had drawn to a close, Snape relinquished his hold on Sarah's mind completely. He had seen enough.

She was thrown to the stone floor, trembling visibly.

When she managed to raise herself into a sitting position, her eyes trailed upward to the man standing before her. He was no longer lounging against his desk in a relaxed pose; he was still leaning against it, but his hands were clutching the edge of the desk, white-knuckled, as if he needed it for support. When their eyes met, neither said a word. Sarah's eyes were already welling up with tears, and Snape's expression was one of shock. Several excruciatingly long moments of silence passed between them.

"You..." Snape began, letting go of the desk and straightening up to his full, terrifying height. Sarah remained prostrate on the cold stone floor, looking up at him. "_It was Potter. It was you._"

Sarah inhaled as if to speak, but no words came from her.

"_You two_ broke into the Ministry," he said, reality dawning on him bitterly.

"We only wanted-," Sarah attempted to begin, but was promptly stifled.

"_Have you any idea what you have done?_" Snape continued, his voice loud and forceful. "You could have been killed! Potter may have a lust to gamble his pathetic life away so easily, but you should have known better than to enter in with him on something so dangerous! You are fortunate to be alive after that!"

"We just-"

"_Do you even appreciate the seriousness of what you have done?_" he continued to rage. "Potter might be above the law because of his status, but I could have you locked away in Azkaban this very night for what you have done!"

"We only-,"

"Not to mention the fact that you could have been _KILLED_," he shouted, "What if they had set Aurors on you? What could you have done? How could you have been led to do something so foolish? _POTTER! You stole from me_," he spat, "Is that all this is to you? Just to _seduce_ me at Potter's behest? _I should have known that there couldn't possibly be a good reason for your interest in me_," he hissed.

"No! I love-,"

"_Get out,_"

"If you would only- Please, just listen-,"

"_GET OUT!_" Snape roared. In an instant, his wand was in his hand, and he slashed it blindly at the walls of his office. Many of the bottles, jars, and other delicate potionmaking equipment shattered loudly in an explosion of glass. Shards were sent flying everywhere.

Sarah scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could, some jagged shards of glass cutting into her hands as she pushed herself up from the floor. As she ran for the door, she heard more bottles and equipment shattering behind her. When she reached the door, she hesitated for a moment, turning back to look at him.

"_OUT!_"

He sounded like an anguished, wounded animal. His deep, black eyes were alight with rage. She saw him slash his wand blindly again, and something was sent flying in her direction. She flung the door open and slammed it behind her; as she did, she heard something shatter against it on the other side.

When the girl had gone, Snape was left standing alone in his office, breathing heavily. Much of the former contents of his shelves lay shattered about him. He felt some errant shards of glass biting into his skin in places, but he was in too much pain to care. He began to tremble. Never since Lily's death had he felt something akin to this. The wand dropped out of his hand, clattering as it landed, the hollow sound echoing. He slowly sank down to sit on stone the floor, leaning up against his desk, his head in his hands.

Had the girl just been about to say that she loved him?

* * *

Sarah had sprinted the entire way back to the seventh floor corridor. When she reached the sanctity of her room, she slammed the door shut, slunk down against it, and cried; her hands, and her heart, bleeding.

* * *

The atmosphere during the short amount of time left at school before the holidays had become gloomy. Sarah had suddenly become extremely despondent, as her friends immediately noticed. She was also completely unwilling to reveal the origin of the cuts on the palms of her hands, and constantly rebuffed their attempts to take her to the hospital wing and get them properly looked after. Instead, she simply bandaged each hand up on her own and seemed not to care. In fact, it seemed to Harry that she did not care about much of anything anymore. Sarah had usually been eager to escape the solitude of her own room, spending a significant amount of time in the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall.

Now, however, Harry was having to fetch her for meals. It seemed that she would completely neglect to eat otherwise. She was also absent from the common room. In her absence, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny had all pestered Harry to tell them what was the matter with Sarah, but he told them truthfully that he did not know. He had attempted to ask several times, only to have Sarah give no reply whatsoever, or supply an automatic 'nothing'. He was tempted to inquire if something had gone wrong between she and Snape, but he dare not ask. Hermione and Ginny had tried their own line of inquiry, cornering Sarah by themselves in the thought that she might be more apt to discuss something with other girls instead of Harry, but they were equally unsuccessful.

Even if Harry had asked about Snape specifically, Sarah would not have told him. He did not need the added worry that would accompany finding out that Snape knew all about their stealing from him, and also about their grossly illegal adventure into the Ministry of Magic. If Harry were to find out, he would probably be paranoid at the thought that Snape would turn them over to the wizarding authorities. This same thought had also crossed Sarah's mind, but somehow she knew that he wouldn't.

Her lessons with him, as they were required to continue, were now completely clinical. He was her professor and nothing more. She would be assigned a menial task or assignment, and he would go about his own work in silence as she went about hers. He gave no hint or recognition whatsoever that anything more had ever transpired between them. It made every lesson extremely painful for Sarah; she would often struggle to hide quiet sobs, and she always returned to her room with a tear-soaked sleeve. She wanted nothing more than to fix things between them, but his previous display of unbridled anger had made it quite clear that he was unwilling to listen to her.

Because of this, she was glad that the Christmas holiday came quickly.

It was late on Friday evening. Most of the students had already left. Those poor few that remained behind were probably the few students who were not leaving for the holiday. She would now go home with Harry and not have to worry about seeing Snape again for a few weeks. There was, however, the worrying prospect of dealing with Griphook tomorrow, and their subsequent adventure into the bank. It had all seemed so daunting to her before, but now, she would rather break into Gringotts a hundred times than face Snape again and deal with her heartbreak.

She was seated on her bed, her room almost in complete darkness. The fireplace only held a few burning embers now, and they barely lit the room enough to see. Next to her on the bed was a moderately sized duffel bag containing several changes of clothing. She had also packed her the left-over Decoy Detonators and Peruvian Instant Darkness powder from their trip into the Ministry; both she and Harry had agreed that the items would most likely still be of invaluable use to them when going into Gringotts. Also within her bag was her small bottle of Amortentia which she had brewed what seemed like so long ago. All of these things, plus a random assortment of necessary clothing, were all haphazardly jammed into the bag.

Sarah was dressed to leave in the cold weather, bundled up in several layers, with her Gryffindor scarf wrapped snugly about her neck. She was also still wearing Snape's traveling cloak, the one he had given her. As she sat upon her bed, she stared blankly into the dying embers of the fire. She let out a deep sigh, but instantly regretted it. When she had breathed in deeply, she breathed in Snape's scent from the cloak draped about her. She felt a sharp pang of emptiness inside. She idly wondered what _he_ was doing for the holiday. She wondered what his home might be like. _If only I hadn't been such an idiot,_ she thought to herself, _I might have been able to find out._

A soft knock on the door broke her away from her depressive thoughts. Sighing again and shouldering her duffel bag, she stood and went to the door. Opening it, she found Harry waiting for her in the corridor outside. He was also dressed for the cold, but he was carrying nothing with him. He had enough of his own things already in Grimmauld Place that it eliminated the need for him to pack. When Sarah stepped out into the corridor, he gave her a small smile.

"Ready to go, then?" he asked, approaching her and reaching out for her duffel bag.

Sarah hesitated momentarily, but allowed Harry to take her bag from her.

"I guess so," she breathed, turning back and shutting the ornately-carved wooden door behind her.

After Harry had taken Sarah's bag, his brows furrowed and he shook it experimentally.

"Sure you've got everything you need? Seems like you packed a little light," he commented, eyeing her with concern.

"I don't want to have too much to carry with me when we're on the run from the law after breaking into Gringotts, you see," Sarah jested in a bored way, turning and beginning to make her way down the corridor.

Her tone certainly wasn't jovial, but at least she had made a joke, albeit a somber one. With this, Harry gave an amused laugh and shouldered the duffel bag, walking beside her down the hall. The door to Sarah's room vanished back into bare wall behind them.

"Smart plan," he replied, smiling.

The pair continued winding their way through the castle on their way to the outside grounds. Everything was lit as it normally would be, but the absence of most of the students scurrying about the halls made the castle seem like a huge and lonely place. They did not run into a single person on their way out of the castle, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridors as they walked along silently.

When they reached the grounds, they trudged their way along the lawns toward the school's perimeter. What had previously been a light dusting of snow was now a respectable accumulation. The bottoms of their pant legs would probably be wet by the time they reached their destination. They continued on toward where they could Disapparate from, leaving two perfect trails of footprints in the snow behind them.

Reaching the line which marked the end of the school's grounds, Harry stopped and turned to Sarah. Maybe because of her completely downtrodden mood, he thought, she might feel like going by Side-Along rather than Apparating by herself. She had not had more opportunities to practice with it since they had gone to Grimmauld Place and Diagon Alley in their quest to bribe Griphook into helping them.

"Do you want to-," he began, but he was cut short, watching as Sarah simply continued over the school's boundary line and disappeared with a _crack_, as if Apparition was second nature to her already. Harry's eyes widened.

"Erm, right."

Hurrying after her, he quickly walked to the place where she had disappeared from, turning on the spot and stepping into that irksome sensation which he could never seem to get used to. When he re-appeared, Sarah was already across the street, standing on the top step and waiting for him to unlock the door. He was across the street in a few long strides, withdrawing his wand from inside his robes as he climbed the front steps. Reaching the door, he tapped it with his wand.

After the door had unlocked itself, they stepped inside. The inside of the house was much as it had been on their last visit; pristine, glowingly lit, and welcoming in its warmth. The door was not closed half a second before the old house-elf rushed into the entrance hall.

"Master!" the elf croaked, making a low bow. It was already quite obvious that the elf could barely contain himself for all his excitement about having people in the house again. "Allow me, master, allow me!" the elf insisted, rushing forward and attempting to strip Harry and Sarah of their traveling cloaks and scarves while they were still working to remove their snowy shoes from their feet. When he had succeeded in removing them, he meticulously hung them on hooks beside the door.

"Thank you Kreacher," Harry said, setting his shoes and Sarah's boots aside to dry.

"Not at all, master, not at all," the elf croaked, bowing to his master again. Once he felt that he had given his master the proper respect, he turned to Sarah. "Welcome, Miss," he said to her, the golden locket dangling off his chest as he bowed to her. The elf then approached the duffel bag which Harry had set aside while removing his traveling clothes, picking it up.

"That's alright, Kreacher," said Harry, gently taking the duffel bag from him, "Those are Sarah's things, we'll take care of it. Come on," he said, gesturing to Sarah, jerking his head in the direction of the staircase, "We'll get you set up in the study, the couch in there is pretty big and there's a fireplace."

Harry proceeded up the staircase carrying the duffel bag, Sarah following after him.

"Tea in ten minutes!" Kreacher called after them hoarsely. "Kreacher can also make supper!"

Sarah followed Harry up into the same room from which they had retrieved the sword of Gryffindor. The room was brightly lit, and the fireplace was roaring. Aside from the large glass display case which the sword had rested atop (and was still resting atop, although unceremoniously bundled up in linens), much of the room's walls were lined with bookshelves. The tapestry of the Black family tree hung on the far wall. There was also an overlarge, comfortable-looking couch with matching chairs and small tables in the section of the room nearest the fireplace.

Harry approached the large couch, setting Sarah's bag down on it.

"I'm sorry that it's not much," he said, turning to Sarah, "But Hermione might be able to transfigure it into a bed for you when she gets here. I was planning on giving Ron and Hermione the empty guest room and having Ginny stay with me." His face colored slightly as he said this aloud.

Harry had embraced Sirius' old bedroom as his own, completely refurbishing it aside from some of the old photographs which his godfather had decorated the walls with. Aside from that room, Harry left the master suite and Regulus' old bedroom just as they were, mostly to please Kreacher, who might become angry if Harry were to completely clear out his old mistress' and master's rooms.

"It's more than enough," Sarah assured him, staring into the fire. "Thank you, Harry."

Unable to refuse Kreacher's gracious offering of tea, they joined him in the basement kitchen, watching with amusement as the elf bustled about. Sarah insisted several times that she was not hungry and the elf's efforts were not necessary, but Kreacher would hear none of it. In short measure, Kreacher had prepared them a simple meal of freshly baked bread and delicious onion soup.

"It's best just to let him do what he wants," Harry whispered to her from across the table as they ate, smiling. Sarah could not help but crack a smile at the elf's antics.

When Sarah returned to the upstairs study, she found that the large couch had been made into a makeshift bed, sheets tucked snugly into the cushions, with a luxuriously soft blanket already turned down for her, all topped off with the softest pillow that Sarah had ever felt. She could not help but smile again, but she also began to wonder how someone could find such sheer and utter joy in servitude. That was just the way of the house-elf, she thought, or some of them, at any rate. House-elves like Kreacher, at least.

Not long after, Sarah fell asleep while staring into the now lowly-burning fire, thinking on the unpleasant guest they would be receiving tomorrow, and what would become of she and her friend while attempting something so dangerous... She could distantly hear herself being shouted at for it by a familiar voice as she drifted off to sleep...

* * *

Late at night, Harry, unable to sleep, was making his way down to the kitchen. As he passed through the upstairs hall, he could not help but pause in the doorway of the study, peeking inside. Sarah was fast asleep on the couch, her small bottle of Amortentia clutched tightly in her hand. Also, her large black traveling cloak had somehow found its way into bed with her during the night.

Harry sighed. Her sudden depression definitely had something to do with Snape.


	22. The Name in Red

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 22: The Name in Red.

* * *

It was mid-morning when Sarah dragged herself out of bed. She was awakened mostly by the rich aromas of breakfast wafting up from the basement kitchen. Kreacher, it seemed, was wasting no time in preparing as much food for them as possible. When she descended into the kitchen, she was not surprised to find Harry already there, seated at the long table. Before him was a dizzying array of every breakfast food Sarah could possibly imagine; eggs cooked in every which way, bacon, sausage, toast, roasted potatoes, pancakes, waffles, muffins, rolls, and to drink, milk, fresh pumpkin juice, hot tea and coffee. Harry's plate was full, apparently very appreciative of Kreacher's cooking. When he noticed her, he looked up, swallowing a mouthful of sausage and egg.

"Good morning," he said, smiling at her.

Sarah's eyes were wide as she examined the impressive breakfast spread. Despite the massive amount of food, Kreacher was still bustling about around the stove.

"Morning," she replied, eyeing the elf. What an amazing little cook.

Harry followed the direction of Sarah's gaze, watching as Kreacher continued cooking away at the stove. He try hide an amused smile at the elf's expense.

"Just try and eat as much as you can," Harry whispered, leaning in Sarah's direction.

A moment later, Kreacher turned about, taking notice of the new guest in the kitchen. His eyes lit up.

"Good morning, Miss!" the elf croaked, making a bow. He then shuffled over to Sarah, taking a hold of her hand and ushering her over to a place set for her across the table from Harry. Sarah allowed herself to be led, and smiled when the elf pulled out her chair for her.

"Thank you, Kreacher," said Sarah, examining the food more closely now that she was sitting at the table. Her recent depression-induced lack of appetite seemed to fade away when faced with so many delicious-looking things. And of course, as she knew, she could not very well offend Kreacher by not eating anything. She helped herself to quite a few things on the table, filling her plate.

As she reached for the pitcher of pumpkin juice, she noticed the sword of Gryffindor lying across the end of the table, still wrapped in its discreet packaging of linens. She blushed immediately; Harry must have entered her room sometime during the night or early in the morning to retrieve it. He must have seen her pathetically snuggled up with Snape's traveling cloak and her bottle of Amortentia which carried his scent. Trying to ignore her embarrassment, she poured herself some pumpkin juice and glanced at Harry. Intent on his meal, he was not looking at her. He must know for certain that something had happened between her and Snape now, and that it was the obvious source of her recent discontent. To his credit, however, he did not broach the subject throughout their quiet meal.

"Did you sleep alright?" Harry asked tentatively after a while of silence.

"Yeah, I did," Sarah replied truthfully. "That's probably just about the most comfortable couch ever. And I never knew what I was missing before I had a fireplace in my room."

"Glad to hear it," said Harry, "I was worried you would be uncomfortable on the sofa."

"What about you?"

"Didn't get a wink, unfortunately," Harry lamented with a sigh. "Too much to think about."

At his words, Sarah's eyes shifted momentarily back to the wrapped sword lying across the table.

"Are we going to give it to him up front, then?" she asked.

Harry looked contemplative for a moment. Sarah knew that he must have been thinking about this during his sleepless night, among other things.

"If we get everything we need out of him up front, I think so," he replied. "We need a lot of information from him. He has to have cased the vault by now to figure out how we're going to get there and get into it. We'll see what he says."

Sarah took a deep breath, nodding.

"And when are we going to- erm- you know," Sarah asked, glancing over her shoulder at Kreacher. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to reveal too much information aloud. She was eager to learn when they would actually be going in. It was now Saturday. Christmas Eve was Thursday; they would have to do it before then, in order to spend the holiday with Ron and Ginny's family and then have the two of them, plus Hermione, come to stay with them here.

Harry glanced at Kreacher as well, but he wasn't worried; after the events of the past year, the elf was extremely loyal, and worse come to worst, Harry could simply give the elf an order to not repeat anything he might hear them speaking about.

"We'll play that by ear, too," Harry said, "We know we have until Thursday at least."

Sarah continued with her breakfast in thoughtful silence, trying to eat as much of Kreacher's wonderful food as possible. When she couldn't possibly eat any more, she leaned back in her chair, watching Harry as he kept eating. He ate quite a bit more before he too was stuffed. This was impressive considering he had begun eating before she had even come down into the kitchen.

"Ron would be proud," Sarah remarked.

"True enough," said Harry, smiling down at his clean plate. There was still a feast left upon the table.

"Kreacher," Harry spoke up.

The elf, who was now scrubbing away pots and pans in the large basin of a sink, literally dropped what he was doing with several loud clanks, and turned to his master attentively.

"Yes Master?" he asked.

"Sarah and I are going to be having a visitor shortly," Harry began casually, "So I'd like you to clear the table for us, save as much of this wonderful breakfast as possible, and put out tea for three, please."

"Yes Master, of course, Master," the elf said in his deep bullfrog's voice, bowing low.

"Also, Kreacher," Harry continued, "While our guest is here, I would appreciate it if you could not listen to what we are saying, tell no one of his visit, and if you _do_ happen to overhear us, don't repeat anything to anyone, alright?"

"Anything, Master," the elf affirmed, bowing low again, the large golden locket that he was so very fond of dangling off his neck.

After Harry thanked him, the elf immediately set to work on his master's orders, clearing the table and packing away as much food as possible.

Harry and Sarah, meanwhile, left the kitchen and headed up into the study. After stoking the fireplace into a lively burn again, Harry took a seat in one of the comfortable armchairs. Sarah seated herself cross-legged on the plush rug before the fire, trying to keep from glancing toward the sofa where Snape's black traveling cloak and her bottle of Amortentia lay intertwined with her rumpled bedclothes.

"When should we be expecting him?" Sarah asked, glancing to Harry.

"Sooner rather than later, I would think," he replied, staring into the fire.

Sarah sighed, turning back to the fireplace. Faced with being away from Hogwarts for several weeks over the holidays, something had been on her mind; something that she wanted to ask Harry. _No time like the present,_ she thought to herself. If Harry didn't know that her depression was Snape-related by now, which he most likely did, he was about to find out for sure.

"Harry," Sarah began quietly without looking away from the fire, "Do you... do you know where he... where Severus lives?"

Harry's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't been expecting her to bring the topic of Snape up at all, let alone ask where he lives. Sarah took Harry's momentary silence as uncertainty.

"He does have a home, doesn't he?" she asked, her voice extremely quiet, "You know, outside of Hogwarts?" After she asked, she sighed. _I'm so stupid,_ she thought to herself. _Why couldn't I ever have asked him myself?_

"I know where he lives," Harry replied, his tone gentle and understanding, "Sort of, anyway..."

Harry thought hard to himself for a moment, recalling one of the memories that had shocked him so deeply to witness; one of the memories that Snape had handed over to him in the Shrieking Shack, thinking himself finished.

Clear images formed in his mind, images of the memory he had seen; he recalled a small Muggle village where a single huge chimney dominated the skyline... a small, deserted playground where two young girls were at play, unaware that they were being watched by the pale, stringy, black-haired boy hiding in the bushes. He thought even harder, recalling his juvenile aunt's scathing words...

_"__**I**__ know who __**you**__ are! You're that Snape boy! They live on Spinner's End, down by the river."_

"I don't know the name of the town," Harry started after his mental interlude, "But I know what it looks like. And he lives on a street there called Spinner's End, down by a river. At least that's where he lived when he was a little kid, anyway. I'm not sure if he still does, but he might."

Sarah nodded silently, still staring into the fire. She wasn't quite sure why she wanted to know. Part of her wanted to try going to see him at his home, perhaps on Christmas Eve; but she could only imagine the additional heartbreak if he were to slam the door on her. She wanted desperately to make things right, but she wasn't sure how to do it. On top of that, according to Harry, there was no guarantee that he actually lived in that place anymore. If he wasn't there, then both of them hadn't the slightest clue where he might live outside of the castle.

Harry watched Sarah as she stared into the fire. Thinking to himself, he correctly deduced that Sarah was toying with the idea of trying to visit Snape sometime over the holidays.

When he was about to open his mouth and suggest attempting such a visit, they were both interrupted from their thoughts by a loud, pounding knock on the door.

Their guest had arrived.

They both looked to each other immediately, and then sprang to their feet, racing out of the study and down the stairs. Reaching the door, Harry tapped it with his wand and watched as the series of locks undid themselves in succession, clicking and clanking loudly. When they were all unlocked, he reached for the door handle. With one last silent glance to Sarah, he opened the door.

There on the top step stood Griphook, many heads shorter than either of them, and looking just about as pleased to see Harry as he had been during their last encounter. He glowered at Harry, his sharp little eyes then darting to the long-haired girl standing beside him.

"Harry Potter," the goblin said tersely.

Harry nodded, stepping aside to allow him entry.

"Come in," Harry said, motioning inside.

Griphook entered, eyeing the entrance hall suspiciously. He did not bother to remove his shoes or coat; apparently he thought that he wouldn't be here very long.

Harry closed the door behind him, motioning the way down to the basement kitchen.

"I was thinking we would sit at the kitchen table," Harry said in as friendly a manner as possible. He led Griphook down into the kitchen, Sarah following after them.

Kreacher, as ordered, had set out tea for three and cleared the rest of the table. The elf was now continuing his work on the cooking utensils from breakfast, scrubbing away in the sink, and seeming to take no notice of the people who had joined him in the kitchen. When Griphook spied the elf, he eyed Harry as he seated himself at the table. Harry and Sarah seated themselves across from him.

"I must admit that I did not expect the great Harry Potter to be the keeper of a house-elf slave," Griphook commented caustically.

"_He's not a slave_," Harry countered, his tone serious, giving Griphook a slightly impatient glare. "He wouldn't know what to do with himself if I set him free. He's lived here all his life. This is where he wants to be. He's happier this way, and all of this is beside the point."

Griphook glared back silently, apparently willing to drop the subject. Although tea had been set out for him, he seemed to take no notice of it. Instead, his eyes immediately traveled to the sword, still lying wrapped at the end of the table; as they came to rest on it, they glinted greedily.

"Well, then," Harry began, trying to pull the goblin's attention away from the object of his desire, "You know what we want. What do you have to tell us?"

Griphook tore his eyes away from the sword, looking back to Harry. Before speaking, his eyes again darted to Sarah momentarily.

"Many things," the goblin admitted, his voice in a down-to-business tone. He leaned forward as if to speak to them, but paused, eyeing Kreacher who was still busy scrubbing away in the sink.

"Don't worry," Harry said, guessing the reason behind the hesitation, "He's been ordered not to overhear us, and if he does, he's also been ordered not to repeat anything or tell anyone that you were here."

"I see," Griphook replied. "In that case, there are many things that you will be interested to know."

Both Harry and Sarah nodded attentively.

"The vault which you desire to access," Griphook began, "Is vault number four-hundred-and-eight. It should come as a slight relief to you that it is not nearly as deep in the complex or as well-secured by the bank as your last quarry. It is, however, being attended by no fewer than three Ministry security personnel at all times. Though this may seem like a disadvantage, it will actually serve as a boon to you."

"Why is that?" Harry asked, now leaning forward in his seat.

"The wizards, not attracted to the prospect of being dependent upon Gringotts goblins to unlock their vault at will, or being privy to its contents for that matter, opted for a keyed vault instead of a higher-security vault which requires the touch of a Gringotts goblin to open," Griphook explained. "I have checked, and this means that one of the Ministry security personnel present guarding the vault at all times possesses a key."

"So what do you suggest?" Harry pressed.

Griphook reached inside his coat. Out from it he pulled several large rolls of parchment, a quill, and a small bottle of black ink. He set them on the table before him.

"On this endeavor, Harry Potter, I will provide you with access, and access only, to the bank's vault complex," Griphook stated. "This means that I will get you past the door within the bank's main hall which leads down into the vaults, and nothing more. Once you are past that door, you are left to your own devices."

Harry was about to speak, but Griphook spoke up again.

"Before you protest," the goblin insisted, "I will not leave you to grope blindly in the dark of the bank's many mazes. It would be absurd to expect you to successfully find the vault on your own without falling victim to many of the bank's securities and traps."

With this, Harry kept his mouth shut and watched intently as Griphook set to work. For about the next hour, both he and Sarah watched as Griphook drew out complex, detailed maps upon the rolls of parchment which he had set out. He described at length the many pitfalls (both literally and figuratively) the pair would run into on their journey, and how to avoid them. He carefully mapped out for them a route which would bring them to vault 408 in a relatively obstacle-free manner, all the while warning them that it would be a respectable trek. When the goblin felt that he had explained everything thoroughly enough, he stopped, watching Harry, ready to gauge his reactions. Sarah, on one hand, looked highly relieved that there would not be any dragons involved on the higher levels of the bank which they would have to traverse.

Harry, glancing up from the maps on the table, gave a confident nod.

"How and when do you suggest getting us past the door?" he asked.

"I happen to have my own vault within the bank," Griphook explained, "And I might be persuaded to visit it at a precise time, if you follow my meaning. When I set out to do so, I would insure that the door remains open long enough for you to slip by invisibly, I presume. I must stress, however, that once you are past that door, you are on your own, with the instructions I have provided you, of course."

"Sounds fair," said Harry, glancing to Sarah quickly who nodded in agreement.

"Also, I wish to request an addendum to all of this," Griphook stated, eyeing Harry warily.

"Go on,"

"Once you have hopefully exited the bank successfully with whatever your goal may be," said Griphook, sounding more civil than Harry had ever heard him, "I request that you destroy these. Permanently. As I have stated once before, this is considered base treachery." He motioned to the detailed maps that he had inked out on the rolls of parchment.

"Also fair," Harry agreed.

Reaching out, Harry placed a hand on the maps, sliding them over toward his side of the table. Then, he leaned over to the end of the table where the sword lay. Grabbing it by the base of its linen-wrapped blade, he picked it up, and then placed it on the table in front of Griphook, indicating that they had just made some sort of worthy trade. The goblin, well versed in the symbolic gestures of deals and trading, gave a nod.

Before either touching or eyeing the prize before him, Griphook spoke again.

"When, then, Harry Potter, do you desire the door to open for you, so to speak?" asked the goblin.

Harry thought to himself for a moment. They _did_ have until Thursday, but in truth, Harry wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. He never could stand the wait before these things. Also, he realized, in case anything were to go wrong, they would want to leave the bank under cover of darkness.

"Tomorrow," said Harry, "Four in the afternoon." It should already be getting dark then, Harry knew, and by the time they might leave, it would most certainly be as good as night outside.

After making his proclamation of a definite time, he glanced to Sarah, wanting to be sure that she had no objections. She looked slightly pale and a bit nervous, but when Harry turned to her, she nodded at him. He turned back to the goblin.

"Very well then," said Griphook, "Tomorrow at four o'clock it is. The door will open for you."

Agreeing to the finalization of the terms, the goblin reached out toward his prize, his small, long-fingered hands quaking slightly in anticipation. For now, he was content merely to caress the sword's contours through its wrapping; when he would get it home, however, he would enjoy taking his time inspecting every inch of it thoroughly.

Sarah remained seated at the kitchen table while Harry saw Griphook out. The kitchen was now empty aside from her; Kreacher must have finished his cleaning while she and Harry had been engrossed by Griphook's map-making. None of them, she realized, had touched their tea.

When Harry returned, he was looking extremely satisfied. Aside from the initial touchiness over Kreacher, Griphook had been remarkably more cordial than Harry had expected of him. Seating himself across from Sarah in the chair that Griphook had just left, Harry pulled the maps over to himself and began poring over them. Sarah sipped her cold tea silently.

While Harry looked completely at ease, the issue of giving the priceless sword away for her sake was still weighing heavily on her.

"Aren't you going to miss it?" she asked at last.

Harry looked up at her, perplexed.

"Blimey, no," Harry said, "I'm glad he's gone, aren't you?"

Sarah smirked.

"Not the goblin," she clarified, "The sword."

"Oh," Harry replied, "We've already been through this, Sarah, I don't mind at all, remember? Stop troubling yourself over it."

Sarah sighed and nodded, still not feeling entirely assuaged.

The rest of the day was spent planning and preparing. The two of them pored over the maps together innumerable times, trying to memorize every tiny detail. This way, in the event that they should lose the maps or they should become damaged somehow, they should still remember enough in order to get themselves safely back to the surface. Becoming lost inside Gringotts, as Harry knew, might result in them never coming out again.

There was also some spells practice in the study after supper. Clearing all the furniture to the sides of the room, Harry guided Sarah through the practice of many spells which they might need while down in the bank. The session was a relative success, aside from a few pieces of iced-over furniture and a couple of toppled book cases. Things were easily set right again, and both of them attempted to get to sleep early in preparation for the next day's trials.

Sarah, like she knew Harry must be experiencing, found herself sleepless. She tossed and turned on her softa, wrapping herself tightly in Snape's traveling cloak as if it were an extra blanket. Unlike Harry, however, the prospect of breaking into the infamously tightly-secured bank was secondary on her mind; she was thinking instead of what Severus might be doing at the same exact moment, and wondering forlornly if he had thought about her as well, wondering if he might miss her and if he wished to set things right. Remembering his explosive anger, however, and how coldly he had treated her afterward, her heart ached, and fresh tears found their way onto her pillow.

When she finally drifted off to sleep, she was imagining what the house on Spinner's End might be like, if he still lived there...

* * *

Sarah awoke much later the following morning. Harry, in his eagerness to be fully prepared, had been tempted to wake her, but decided that it was best to let her sleep as much as possible before their adventure. When Sarah opened her eyes, light was streaming into the study. She could already smell that their was food waiting for her in the kitchen. Stretching languidly, she emerged from her sofa-turned-bed and headed downstairs.

Just as she thought she would find, Harry was already seated at the kitchen table with Griphook's detailed maps sprawled out before him. He was leaned forward very far, his eyes only inches from the parchment as he meticulously inspected them, trying to memorize every detail. He was so intent on his preparation that he took no notice of Sarah until she spoke up.

"Don't you think we've spent enough time looking over that?" she asked, seating herself across the table from him. Kreacher, apparently, was already busy with his other household duties as he was not present in the kitchen, but the table was still laid out with an impressive spread of food. Sarah helped herself to a generous amount.

Harry looked up at her as she seated herself and began helping herself to breakfast.

"Can't be too prepared," he told her, turning his eyes back down to the maps. "I don't think you fancy getting lost down there, and neither do I. You've no idea how massive it is. We might never find our way out if we get lost."

Harry was right; she definitely didn't fancy that idea. Somehow, however, she felt pretty safe about going into this with him. Harry, it seemed, could pull off just about anything. She ate her breakfast quietly, watching him as he continued poring over the maps. As far as she could tell, he had been here quite a while. There was an empty plate next to him, as well as another plate of food that looked half-eaten, and also an empty coffee mug.

"Did you sleep at all?" Sarah inquired after a while.

"Of course not," Harry said amusedly. "I did try though, so you have to give me some credit."

Sarah laughed to herself as she imagined Harry pacing back and forth in his room into all hours of the night, maps in hand, planning for every possible scenario. Even though she wished that he could have gotten some rest, she was glad that he was planning so thoroughly.

"What are we going to do once we actually get down to the vault?" she asked.

Harry glanced up at her again, looking contemplative. He had spent so much time planning how to get down there that he hadn't yet put much thought into what they would do when they actually got there.

"Based on what Griphook said," he began, "It sounds like there isn't really much we _can_ do beside stun the guards, figure out which one of them has the key, and get in and out before they come around. All this without them getting a good look at us, of course."

Sarah nodded, but did not reply. She was fearful of what might happen down there; what if they ended up having to literally fight their way out of the bank? She sighed. She could only imagine the kinds of things Snape would have to say about _this_ little plan. Breaking into the Ministry had been dangerous, but this plan was almost mad.

"And what if he doesn't open the door for us?" Sarah asked.

"I thought about that too," Harry admitted, "But a goblin wouldn't renege on his word. Besides, even if he decides to, nothing says we can't stand around waiting for someone _else_ to open the door and slip inside then."

As the day wore on into the afternoon, the pair continued planning, trying to be sure that every minute detail was thought of. At a quarter past three, it was time for their departure. They were standing in the entrance hall, running over a sort of inventory check.

"Decoy Detonators?" Harry asked.

Sarah opened her robe, displaying an inside pocket. Inside of it there were two Decoy Detonators.

"Check," Sarah replied.

"Darkness powder?"

Sarah opened the other side of her robe; another inside pocket was bulging with the inky black powder.

"Check," she said.

"Invisibility cloak?"

Harry reached inside his own pocket this time, removing the silky, rippling material.

"Check," he said, stowing it away again. "Wands?"

Sarah held up her wand in her right hand, and Harry did as well. With a nod, both of them stowed their wands inside their robes.

"Maps?" Sarah asked.

Harry nodded, opening his robe and showing her a large interior pocket. The rolls of parchment on which Griphook had drawn his detailed maps were carefully folded and tucked inside.

"And finally," Harry said, "Hoods. We'll need them in case we're seen somehow."

Sarah nodded. She was already wearing Snape's large black cloak with and amply-sized hood. Harry turned to his right, removing a traveling cloak of his own from a hook on the wall next to the door. He draped it over himself, securing it tightly.

"Ready, then?" he asked.

"Ready," Sarah replied with as much confidence as she could muster.

With this, the two of them stepped out of the door. Once Harry had re-locked it behind them, both of them Disapparated from the top step.

When they reappeared in the dark London alleyway along Charing Cross Road, Harry's arm shot forth, stopping Sarah before she could step out onto the sidewalk.

"Hoods up," he explained, "We don't need anyone knowing we were even in the vicinity."

"Good point," Sarah agreed, pulling the large hood over her head. It concealed her completely.

Once Harry had pulled up his own hood, they both stepped out onto the street. It was another gray afternoon in London. The few times that Sarah had been here, she doubted she had seen it look any other way. There was less snow here than there had been up north at Hogwarts; only a small dusting of it lay in untouched corners of the sidewalks, and a small amount of slush rested next to the curbs in the salted streets. Both of them walked at a hurried pace to the Leaky Cauldron. They looked quite a bit more peculiar than normal walking down the Muggle street with their hoods pulled up. The less eyes they drew, the better.

When they reached Diagon Alley, they relaxed their pace. Their attire wasn't peculiar here, even though it might be considered a bit odd to walk about with one's hood on; outside of Knockturn Alley, at least.

It was Sunday afternoon, and Diagon Alley was bustling. With Christmas Eve on Thursday, many witches and wizards were scrambling to finish their holiday shopping. When she could, Sarah would sneak glances out from under her hood, wistfully examining all of the holiday decorations. If they were here under normal circumstances, she would have loved to visit all of the interesting shops in their holiday decor. There were lights everywhere, in such number and varying colors that Sarah had never seen in any Muggle holiday displays. Children ran laughing gleefully through the crowds, towing their parents behind them and pointing in shop windows hopefully. The crowds were thick, and Sarah walked extremely close to Harry to avoid being separated. When they passed by Quality Quidditch Supplies, she definitely saw his head turn. When they got back to Grimmauld Place later, Sarah thought, she would definitely suggest having a normal shopping trip here before Christmas.

When they neared the bank, Harry steered Sarah off toward Knockturn Alley. There they would be able to slip underneath the invisibility cloak more discreetly. The sea of crowds in Diagon Alley was making him nervous; if they were to cause too much of a commotion inside the bank, the shopping crowds might be up in a frenzy, which could make their escape more difficult. When they were safely standing in the shadows of Knockturn Alley, Harry leaned in close to Sarah.

"If anything goes too badly inside, such as either of us being seen," he said, "I want us to get back to Hogwarts instead of going back to Grimmauld Place."

"Back to school?" Sarah whispered back. "But why?"

"If we were to be followed back to Grimmauld Place," Harry said, "It would give us both away. Certain people know where I live, and Professor McGonagall knows you're staying with me."

"But why school?" Sarah whispered. "Isn't that just as obvious?"

"Anyone who might follow us wouldn't be able to track us down inside the Room of Requirement," he explained. As it had been countless times before, it was truly the perfect place to hide. He then reached inside his pocket, slowly removing the invisibility cloak.

"It's going to be a bit of a tight fit with both of us under here," he added, "So just take it really slow."

After a few moments, when he was sure no one was looking, Harry swung the cloak over both of them. When he was sure that they were both completely hidden, they began walking back in the direction of the bank, standing as closely together as possible.

They proceeded slowly and carefully up the bank's marble steps. When they entered the bank hall, it was just as Harry feared. Gringotts, like the rest of Diagon Alley, was fairly crowded. The counters that stretched along either side of the hall were lined with witches and wizards making withdrawals to do their holiday shopping. He felt Sarah grow tense at his side. Together they moved into the un-trafficked center of the hall. Sarah's eyes were nervously darting all about, trying to be sure that no one would suddenly walk into them. Harry's eyes were scanning the teller windows, searching for Griphook. He spotted him easily in the same place where he had found him last time, serving a short witch with curly black hair. He gave Sarah a soft nudge, pointing in the goblin's direction.

When Sarah looked over, the short curly-haired witch had finished her business and stepped away from the counter. Harry raised his wrist between them, sliding up his sleeve to reveal the face of his starry golden watch. Sarah peered down into it; it was only a quarter till four. They still had fifteen nervous minutes to stand about waiting.

They stood perfectly still and invisible in the center of the bank, their eyes intent on Griphook. Harry was patient, but the minutes seemed to crawl by to Sarah, who was extremely nervous. As they stood there, she continued glancing around, ready to alert Harry if someone were about to walk into them. When the time neared, Harry raised his watch again and nudged Sarah. It was one minute until four. Griphook had started to move.

The goblin disappeared from sight when he hopped down from his teller's chair. Harry and Sarah began to walk forward slowly, nearing the huge golden door which led down into the vaults. Two security goblins stood on either side of the large double doors. Griphook approached them casually, with Harry and Sarah only inches behind him now.

"Need to visit my vault for a moment during my break," Griphook announced, holding up a small lantern. He would only be spending a moment down there, and no longer. He intended to be back up in the bank's main hall in full sight off all his brethren before anything went awry down in the vaults.

Granting his request, each of the security goblins grabbed one of the huge doorhandles, pulling the heavy doors open with effort. When the doors were open for him, Griphook hesitated and did not move, which caused the security goblins to eye him impatiently. Apparently they were of the mindset that every second the doors were open was a lapse in their tight security.

Now was their chance. Harry and Sarah quickly and quietly moved around Griphook, slipping past the doors. It was a tight fit; the security goblins had only opened it far enough to allow Griphook entrance. Both breathed a silent sigh of relief once past them, now cloaked in the concealing darkness in addition to their invisibility. Standing aside, they watched as Griphook followed after them. The security goblins slammed the doors shut behind him.

Everything was now silent and almost completely dark, aside from the small lantern that Griphook held. The goblin did not bother to speak or look back before boarding one of the waiting carts sitting on the track before him. Once he was seated inside, he zoomed off. The loudly echoing sound of the cart on the tracks, as well as the dim lantern light, faded away down the sloping passageway.

Harry withdrew his wand.

"_Lumos_," he whispered, urging Sarah to begin walking alongside him, following the track which sloped downward. "Once we get a bit further in, we can take the cloak off until we get there, I think."

Sarah nodded once, looking forward to being able to move without so much constraint. She followed the guidance of Harry's wandlight as they began their journey down the main passageway. Once they had descended a moderate depth, however, the passageway began branching off into a maze of sub-passages.

"This way," Harry whispered, indicating the correct path with his wandlight.

Once they had entered the small side-tunnel, he pulled the invisibility cloak off of them, and also pulled his hood down. Sarah did the same, drawing out her own wand from inside her robes.

"_Lumos_," she whispered.

Everything about them, aside from their wandlight, was pitch blackness. All was silent except for the shuffling of their shoes on the narrow stone walkways beside the cart tracks. Soon they began passing by vault doors numbered in the one-hundreds. Sarah directed her wandlight at them as they walked by, admiring their intricate metalwork and interesting-looking locks.

"This doesn't seem so bad," Sarah commented quietly.

"This isn't nearly the worst of it," Harry replied, "Remember how deep down my vault was? We haven't got to go quite that deep, but we still have a ways to go, yet."

Harry was right, Sarah thought. It seemed that they were walking along for quite some time before they began descending again. With the next downward slope, the passageway that they were in split off into even more branches. This time, Harry paused to consult one of the maps to be absolutely sure that they were going the right direction.

Before he could indicate the correct way to go, however, his heart jumped when he heard the loud clanking of a cart coming down the track from behind them. The carts traveled extremely fast. They only had a few seconds at most.

"_Nox_!" he said, extinguishing his wandlight. "Get down!" he whispered loudly, crouching down and pulling Sarah down with him, who extinguished her own wandlight immediately. As quickly as he could, he flung the invisibility cloak over them.

No more than a second later, a cart sped by them noisily, carrying a goblin and two human occupants, on the way to some unknown vault.

Once the noise of the cart had faded, Harry sighed. Sarah made no noise whatsoever. Her heart was in her throat, and she was trembling visibly.

"No worries," Harry said quietly as he stood again, lighting his wand and pulling the cloak off of them. He extended a hand to Sarah, who allowed herself to be helped to her feet. She looked extremely pale in the wandlight. "We probably should have thought that bit out before."

"You think?" Sarah replied sarcastically. She had quite obviously been terrified that they were about to get caught.

Harry struggled to suppress an amused laugh.

"Well now you know what to do," he said, "As soon as you hear anything coming down the tracks, put out your wand and get down so I can cover us up. This way, then," he said, indicating the correct passage for them to take. Sarah lit her own wand again and proceeded after him.

The next stages of their journey proved more difficult. Although they did not end up having to dodge any more carts coming down into the vaults, the next passageways began descending harshly. They encountered several staircases, if they could even be called as such, which were so cruelly steep and narrow that both of them needed to literally climb down with their lit wands held in their teeth. It grew significantly colder as they ventured deeper, cold enough for both of them to agree that it was colder down here than it had been outside. Their breath condensed in small puffs of fog as they walked along.

On the level where they passed by vaults numbered in the two-hundreds, they found the environment extremely cramped and narrow. In places, Sarah was having to walk behind Harry rather than beside him. Descending harshly again onto the level where there were vaults numbered in the three-hundreds, the passages became a bit more spacious. The space overhead also seemed to heighten, and cold water began dripping down onto them as if it were drizzling. Directing her wandlight upward, Sarah saw huge stalactites on the cavernous ceiling above.

Their next descent was the worst yet, a longer and steeper climb downward. This climb had not been like the others so far. Instead of slightly manicured stone, it seemed as if they were climbing down a jagged cave wall. Now at least, as Harry knew, they should be on the correct level. Having insisted on going down first to be sure of the climb's integrity, he helped Sarah down the last few feet. A longer, larger passage stretched out before them. Harry consulted the map again. According to Griphook's notes, they should now follow the passage straight until they reach a ninety-degree right hand turn. Their desired vault should lie just around that corner.

"Shouldn't be far now," he said, tucking the map back inside his pocket. "Hoods up from here, I think."

Pulling up their hoods, they proceeded forward carefully and quietly. In order to minimize their potential visibility, Sarah extinguished her wandlight. Harry kept his wand lit, but trained the light down at the floor so it would not reach the end of the passageway before them. Soon, however, he extinguished his own light as well. From the end of the passageway, where it turned off to the right, light was glowing. Both of them held their breath when they began hearing voices echoing down the passage as well. Stopping Sarah gently with his arm, Harry again covered both of them with the invisibility cloak. As they neared the corner of the passage, the light was more than bright enough to see by. There were voices talking away, punctuated by a boisterous laugh which echoed.

Before they reached the very edge of the corner, Harry stopped Sarah again, taking the cloak off of her, but still keeping himself concealed within it. When she could no longer see Harry, Sarah blinked, her expression fearful. He leaned in close to her.

"Stay here," he whispered as quietly as possible, "I'm going to look."

Nodding once in acknowledgement, Sarah put her back to the wall and crouched down low against it. Harry, completely concealed by the cloak, peeked out around the corner.

There he could see the large door to the vault numbered 408. On each side of it, a large brazier was lit, its flames filling the area with light. To Harry's delight, there were three men outside of the vault, just as Griphook had said there would be. Two of them were seated in small, uncomfortable-looking chairs on either side of the vault's door, and the third one was pacing in between them. All of them were uniformed; they were definitely Ministry security personnel.

"When's it my turn to sit," the pacing man complained, glaring jealously at his seated comrades.

The man seated on the side of the vault closest to Harry seemed to check a timepiece in his pocket.

"S'not five yet," the man seated closest to Harry replied, his voice gruff. "Your turn starts at five."

"Don't see why they can't just give us three chairs, seeing as there's three of us," said the pacing man, his hands thrust deep in his uniform pockets.

"They want at least one of us to stay alert and on our feet," added the man seated furthest from Harry on the other side of the vault's door.

The pacing man gave an impatient scoff.

"What's the point," he said, his ire for their current assignment quite apparent in the tone of his voice, "It's not as if anyone could possibly get down here, and no one in their right mind would even try. I'm sick of this beat. If I had known Ministry security would mean being stationed down in a goblin-made hole in the ground a mile under London I never would have taken the job."

The man seated closest to Harry rolled his eyes.

"I wouldn'ta taken the job neither if I knew it meant listenin' to you moanin' on abou' it every other nigh'," he said.

This earned him a glare from the pacing man, but he did not reply. He continued pacing back and forth along the walkway in front of the vault.

Harry continued observing them for a few more minutes. As far as he could see, there was not a key openly visible on any of their personages. If he had to take a guess, however, he would wager that the standing guard had the key, as he was in the best and most alert position to defend it against any possible attempts to take it. Perhaps that was why there were only two chairs for three people. As one of the guards had said, one of them needed to be alert and on their feet at all times; maybe this was the same person who held the key.

When he had seen enough, Harry crept back around the corner to where Sarah was seated against the wall. He lowered himself down next to her, opening the cloak to drape it over her so that she could see him. Once she was inside the cloak with him, she looked to him, eager for information.

"There are three of them, just like Griphook said," he whispered as quietly as possible. "Two of them are sitting in chairs on each side of the vault, and one of them is standing in between them. I reckon he's the one that has the key."

"What should we do?" Sarah whispered in reply.

Harry remained silent for a few moments, thinking hard. If they were to attempt distracting them first, with the use of a decoy detonator, they might panic and have enough time to use some means of contacting the bank's security or any other reinforcements that they may have on the surface. Their best bet, he thought, would be to assault all three of them outright; that wouldn't give them any time to do much of anything.

"I think we're going to have to go straight for them," he whispered back. "We can't let them have time to do anything. It's going to take some quick spellwork, but I think we can pull it off."

Sarah nodded once, readying her wand.

"What do you want me to do?" she whispered.

"Stunning should be enough," he replied, "We'll knock each of them out, and then I'll do a little something extra just to be sure. We'll have to do it in unison. You hit the guard in the chair closest to us, and I'll hit the standing one. Then I want you to hit the other seated one. Once they're down, I'll search the middle one for a key. I think he has it, but I want you to check the others as well just in case. Once we've got it, I want you to take it and unlock the vault while I take an extra precaution on them. When it's open and I'm finished, we'll go in together, got it?"

"Got it," Sarah affirmed.

"Alright," Harry said, standing up with Sarah and keeping the cloak over both of them. "When we get around the corner, I'm going to count to three. On three, the cloak is coming off. Don't hesitate. Stun instantly."

Sarah gripped her wand tightly in her hand as she slowly rounded the corner with Harry, concealed by the invisibility cloak. Her heart had begun to race uncontrollably. Never since sneaking into the Ministry had she attacked anyone with anything, and even then, her target had been Confunded first. Doubts were racing through her mind. _What if I miss? What if I hit them and don't knock them out?_ When she realized just how tightly she was gripping her wand, she forced herself to loosen her grip for fear that she might snap it like a pencil.

When they were situated around the corner, Harry began counting in a faint, almost inaudible whisper.

"_One_..."

Sarah swallowed hard, her eyes focused on the guard seated in the chair closest to her.

"_Two_..."

Her heart was thundering madly inside her chest. There was no turning back now. She couldn't hesitate, even for a split second. The hand holding her wand twitched slightly.

"_Three_,"

Instantly on three, Harry tore the invisibility cloak off of them in a whirl of rippling fabric. Their arms shot forth.

"_Stupefy!_" they both shouted in unison, sending jets of red light at their targets.

Both of their spells hit the mark; Sarah had blasted the closest guard out of his chair and back into the vault door. He dropped to the ground and did not move. The standing guard, hit by Harry's spell, was blasted off of his feet, flying back and hitting the ground hard. The third guard could do little more than jerk his head in the direction of the two cloaked figures that had appeared out of nowhere before Sarah's wand had turned on him, too. He was blasted out of his chair, hitting the wall behind him and sliding to the ground, unmoving.

"Quick!" Harry said, running forward and coming to kneel next to the unconscious guard who had been standing only moments before. He immediately began searching his person. Sarah followed suit, hurrying forward to the unconscious guard closest to her and beginning to search.

It was only a few seconds before Harry gasped, and then announced triumphantly,

"I've got it!" he said, plucking a small golden key from the guard's breast pocket.

Sarah sprang to her feet instantly, turning to Harry, who tossed the key to her. It arced and spun through the air gracefully, glinting in the firelight of the braziers before Sarah caught it with both hands. She then jumped to the door of the vault, holding the key in her right hand and placing her left hand flat against the locking mechanism. It was so complex that it took her several seconds to realize that there were many keyholes arranged in a circular pattern upon the face of the vault.

"There's a bunch of keyholes, Harry! Which one-," she began frantically, but Harry cut her off.

"All of them!" he shouted back.

Sarah immediately set to work on the locks, inserting the small golden key into one keyhole after another and turning it. Each turn of they key triggered a symphony of metallic clicks and clanks emanating from within the vault's doors.

While Sarah was unlocking the vault, Harry got to his feet again, wand raised. He pointed it first to the guard before him.

"_Incarcerous!_" he yelled, ropes springing into existence from the tip of his wand and binding themselves around the guard's unconscious form. He repeated this with each of the other guards until all of them were bound up tightly. If they were to come around before he and Sarah were at a safe distance, they would have ropes to contend with before they were free to give chase.

When his work was finished, he turned to Sarah, still working away at the vault's door. She was just turning the small golden key in the last keyhole. There was an echoing clang. He jumped forward, grabbing Sarah by the shoulder and pulling her back just as the vault's enormous door split down the middle and swung open with sonorous creaks.

"The key," Harry breathed, looking to Sarah, "Leave it."

They key immediately dropped from Sarah's hand, tinkling on the stone floor when it fell. When the vault doors had stopped moving, Harry raised his wand again, and Sarah imitated him.

"_Lumos_," they both said, illuminating their wands to shine forth into the vault.

Harry could have laughed. The Ministry couldn't have possibly made it any easier for them. There, standing in the center of the vault, was the filing cabinet which Harry had visited in the Hall of Records inside the Obliviator Headquarters. His heart leapt with joy and exhilaration. He had missed having this kind of rush in his normal day-to-day Voldemort-free life.

"Second drawer from the top!" he said, motioning forward, "Come on!"

Both of them rushed forward, unaware that the guard that Harry had stunned began stirring behind them.

Arriving at the cabinet, Harry's hand moved for the handle of the drawer second to the top. He pulled hard on it, but to his dismay, it did not open. Sarah looked to him, wide-eyed in panic, but he could not see her expression from underneath her hood.

"They must have locked it, too," he said quickly, sounding out of breath, "Stand back!"

Sarah stepped back from the cabinet. Harry waved his wand at the drawer, shouting,

"_Alohomora!_"

His shout drowned out the quiet utterances of _"Diffindo"_ from behind them.

Harry's spell hit the cabinet with such force that it rocked. For a moment, Sarah jerked forward, fearful that the entire thing would topple over backwards. When the cabinet stilled, their desired drawer slid all the way open. Harry had only a split second to admire his success.

"HEY!" came a shout from behind them. Both Harry and Sarah looked back instantly; the guard which Harry had stunned was gaining his feet, the ropes which Harry had conjured around him sliding off as he stood, having been cut in several places. The guard's arm shot forth, wand-in-hand.

Sarah was paralyzed with fear, but Harry reacted quickly, waving his own wand.

"_Protego!_" he shouted. Harry did not hear what spell the guard had thrown at them, but it was successfully deflected. "Get it!" he shouted at Sarah, who still hadn't moved, "All the way in the back, get it!"

Sarah snapped back into reality as Harry had shouted at her. He had now begun dueling with the guard in earnest. Flashes and sparks illuminated the dark vault as spells were exchanged and deflected. Turning back to the cabinet, she dove for the open drawer. Her wandlight shining down into it, she saw something in the very back of the drawer; another file, it seemed, but with something awkwardly-sized sticking out of it as if it didn't quite fit into the folder. Her empty hand sprang forward, plucking it from the drawer.

Just as she had pulled her hand free, one of the guard's spells made it past Harry, striking the open drawer. Sarah leapt back in reflex, watching as the spell struck the drawer, causing it to jam itself shut with extreme force. It left a deep dent in the drawer's metal, which smoked slightly.

"I've got it!" she shouted to Harry, who was intent on slinging spells at the guard. She raised her own wand to help him, slashing it in the guard's direction; she evoked no verbal spell, but the guard was flung back with incredible force, flying up off of his feet and landing hard on the cart tracks behind him.

As soon as the guard was down, Harry turned to her. He clearly saw the folder clutched in her left hand, something awkwardly sticking out of it.

"Let's go!" he yelled to her, motioning forward.

He took off, running straight out of the vault and taking a hard left. Sarah followed after him, running as quickly as she could, and stowing whatever she had stolen from the drawer securely inside her robes. For good measure, she also scooped out a measure of darkness powder from her inside pocket, tossing it behind her blindly.

Together they dashed as quickly as they both could down the stone walkway back toward where they knew they would have to climb. Not a moment later, there were shouts coming from behind them. With a quick glance over their shoulders, they could see three wandlights bobbing along the passageway in pursuit of them. Another guard must have gotten up and Rennervated his fellows.

"Here!" Harry panted, trying to force the invisibility cloak onto Sarah as they ran along. To his dismay, she forced it back on him, trying to cover him with it.

"No!" she shouted back, "People know who you are! You'll be recognized! No one knows who I am if I get seen!"

Without time to argue, Harry reluctantly agreed to her logic and swung the invisibility cloak over himself.

A streak of white light zipped down the corridor from behind them; it struck Sarah squarely in the back. She suddenly felt as if she had been hit in the back by a heavy object. Losing her balance, she fell forward onto the hard stone. Before she could react, invisible hands were helping her to her feet and pulling her along in the direction they were headed. As she regained her feet, she slashed her wand in the direction the spell had come from.

"_Stupefy!_" she shouted, sending a red streak of light back toward them in retaliation. She must have hit one of them, for there was a cry of pain, and one of the wandlights tumbled to the ground and was extinguished.

"Come on!" Harry yelled, pulling her forward.

They continued sprinting toward the steep climb ahead, two guards in hot pursuit.

"Now, just like we practiced!" Harry yelled suddenly, turning his head over his shoulder and waving his wand behind them as they ran.

"_Aguamenti!_" he shouted, sending a jet of water onto the walkway behind them from underneath the invisibility cloak.

Sarah glanced over her shoulder, pointing her wand toward the water Harry had just created.

"_Glacialis!_" she shouted. A chill wind escaped from the tip of her wand, full of crystallized ice particles; when they came into contact with the huge puddle Harry had created, they froze it solid.

Several strides of running later, there came another shout from behind them, and another wandlight clattered to the floor and was extinguished. The third one, however, continued to chase after them, having managed to avoid the dangerous patch of ice. A streak of red light soared over Sarah's shoulder and continued on along the passageway, striking the climb before them. There it exploded, sending small chunks of stone at them as they reached it. The cavernous, rocky wall towered before them, even more daunting than it had been on the way down. Climbing down, they realized, had been easy. Climbing back up would be a trial, especially with a guard after them.

Harry glanced back with fright at the wandlight which was nearly upon them. Under the cloak, he was concealed and would be able to climb in relative safety. Sarah, however, would surely be shot down if she tried to climb, and there was no possible way that they would both be able to stay concealed underneath the cloak while climbing. It would be hard enough for Harry to keep it over his own climbing form. It seemed that they had reached a dead end. They were cornered. They would have to attack the guard again. Harry spun toward him, aiming his curse from under the cloak.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" he shouted, but his curse missed in the darkness, perhaps only by inches; the light was still gaining on them.

Sarah, it seemed, had other plans. A risky idea had formed in her head. She knew there was no time to climb, but who said she had to climb? A particularly unusual magic skill which she had learned from Snape might be her lifesaver here. She had nowhere near perfected it, but _this_ might just be within her realm of possibility. She would not be strong enough to carry Harry with her; she would be afraid of losing him on the way up. She could, however, buy him the time to climb up in safety.

"Stop!" she yelled to him. "You climb! Start climbing!"

Harry turned to Sarah in confusion, just in time to see her slashing her wand in a downward arc.

"_Volo Absque Alatus!_" she shouted.

Harry watched, wide-eyed, as Sarah seemed to literally leap into the air, effortlessly soaring upward. She cleared about three quarters of the climb in a single jump before whatever power she was using gave way, forcing her to latch herself onto the rocky wall. Without looking back, Harry shoved his wand into his robe and began to climb up after her as quickly as he could. He held a part of the invisibility cloak in his teeth as he went to keep it from slipping off of him. Above him he could see Sarah hauling herself over the climb's precipice.

When he was several feet up, wandlight shone up at him from below, telling him that the guard had reached the bottom of the climb. Harry was climbing as fast as he could, but if the guard were to attempt to climb, and climb faster than him, he would be discovered. He climbed as quickly as he could, not caring that he was scraping himself on the jagged stone, or that glimpses of his hands and feet were probably visible here and there.

Sarah looked down from the top as the wandlight shone up from below, thinking the same thing.

"_Stupefy!_"

A stun from Sarah crackled past Harry, only missing him by inches. The guard at the bottom dodged it. The spell hit the ground beside him and caused another small explosion of rock.

When Harry looked up again in his climb, having reached the halfway point, his green eyes widened in shock.

Sarah, who was leaning over the edge of the climb in order throw spells at the guard and keep him from climbing up behind him, had lost her hood. The guard's wandlight was now shining straight up at her like a spotlight.

"Hood!" he yelled up at her, continuing to climb. She had surely been seen, he realized, but he prayed that she was high enough up that all the guard had seen was a fairly nondescript glimpse of her.

Sarah gasped, jumping back from the edge of the climb and pulling her hood up over her head. She must have lost it while flying as high up the jump as she possibly could. With her hood on once again, she leaned back over the edge, slashing her wand in the guard's direction. So far she had managed to keep him from trying to climb up after them, but she had to be sure that he would not follow.

"_Petrificus Totalus!_" she yelled.

Hitting her mark, she watched as the guard suddenly froze in his motions. It appeared that he had just been about to throw a spell back up at her. In his paralysis, his wand clattered to the ground and was extinguished, leaving them in the safety of the darkness. When she could hear Harry nearing the top of the climb, she groped over the edge blindly, hoping to find some part of him. He grasped her arm, and she helped to pull him up.

"Come on," he panted, regaining his feet at the top of the climb, "We've got to get out of here!"

The pair continued running as quickly as they could. Harry had taken out one of the maps and was consulting it as they went, less confident about traversing their path backwards with such haste. He directed them back along through the passages which they had come through on their way down. He became confident that they were headed in the right direction when they had to duck to the side several times and conceal themselves underneath the invisibility cloak; several carts sped by noisily. They passed by too quickly to get a good look at them, but from what Harry could tell, they were carrying Gringotts goblins and more Ministry security personnel. Somehow one of the guards that had pursued them had managed to contact the surface and alert them of the security breach.

The trek back up to the surface, which seemed to have taken them ages on the way down, went much more quickly at full sprint with the occasional pause to elude oncoming carts full of Gringotts security. Both secure underneath the invisibility cloak, they found the large doors which lead back into the bank hall wide open. The bank was frenzied. Goblins and wizards were running every which way, more and more of them boarding carts to head down to the vault which had been broken in to. Shouts and yells pervaded the air. Witches and wizards that had been waiting in line to get their gold were being ushered out of the bank.

Harry tugged on Sarah's arm.

"Quick!" he whispered, "We have to get out before they close it all together!"

They passed back into the bank hall as quickly as they could, carefully dodging oncoming security goblins. When the bank's front doors were being shut in front of them, they broke into a run. They only just managed to slip outside when the bank's burnished bronze doors clanged shut loudly behind them. The bank was now on complete lockdown in an effort to prevent the unknown thieves from escaping. Unfortunately for them, they already had.

Just as Harry had feared, Diagon Alley was in an uproar. There was a line of goblins at the foot of the bank's steps, keeping witches and wizards away from it. People were running this way and that, looking fearful.

"They're saying there's been a break-in!" shouted one wizard above the crowd. "It's all over the Wizarding Wireless!"

Harry tugged Sarah forward again. Together they descended the steps and carefully slipped past the line of goblins. The crowds out front were thick, however, and both of them had to literally plow through people in order to get through. Then, it was a quick trot back to the Leaky Cauldron. The pub was almost completely empty. Its patrons must have rushed outside into Diagon Alley to try and hear more about the goings-on at the bank.

A few minutes later, when they reached the alleyway into which they had Apparated earlier, Harry seized Sarah's arm and pulled both of them into the crushing blackness.

* * *

When they reappeared, they were amidst the trees at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hogwarts, their sanctuary, its lit windows shining like diamonds in the darkness, lay ahead of them. Without speaking they immediately broke into a run up the snowy lawns and toward the castle, Harry having pulled the cloak off of them as soon as they reappeared. They were both panting heavily and quite out of breath, their lungs and their legs burning, but their drive to reach the safety of the Room of Requirement drove them onward, running strong.

"I'm such an idiot!" Sarah choked out as they ran. "I got myself seen, I'm such an idiot!"

"You said it yourself," Harry struggled to gasp out in between pants. His throat was almost completely dry. The frozen night air tore at him. "No one knows who you are!

"But now they know what I look like!" Sarah groaned. "They'll be looking for me!"

"Don't worry," Harry tried to assure her, "You were so far up, I bet that guard bloke barely saw what you look like."

"I hope so," Sarah replied, her tone slightly calmer. She _had_ been pretty far up. Maybe the guard hadn't gotten a good look at her.

"_You flew!_" Harry yelled at her, sounding thrilled and exhilarated. "Where in the bloody hell did you learn to do that? I didn't know you could do that!"

"Severus taught me," she explained, unable to keep herself from smiling at her friend's evident amazement.

Harry blinked, recalling vividly how Snape had literally flown from one of the castle's windows that night so long ago, before he had discovered the truth about him.

"Blimey, that's incredible!" Harry exclaimed. They were near to the castle now. "No more talking until we get into your room," he added, "We don't need anyone overhearing us."

They both remained as silent as their winded breathing would allow, sprinting all the way through the castle until they reached the seventh floor corridor. Stepping out in front of the blank stretch of wall, Sarah paced back and forth frantically, screaming inside her mind.

_I need my room, for God's sake, I need my room!_

When the ornately-carved wooden door appeared, both of them lunged for the door's handle. Harry got there first, flinging the door open. Once Sarah had run inside, he followed after her, slamming the door behind them.

As soon as Harry shut the door, he pulled his hood down. Leaning forward and grasping his knees with his hands, he panted hard. He could barely remember being this out-of-breath. His heart was racing, and he was trembling with sheer adrenaline. He watched as Sarah pulled her own hood down, leaning against the far wall as she too struggled to catch her breath.

There they stood for several minutes, unspeaking, simply trying to catch their breath. Before a single word was said, Sarah turned away from Harry, toward her desk. Slowly she opened her robe, taking out the folder that they had stolen. It looked similar to the folders that they had taken from the Ministry, except for its oddly-shaped contents and the fact that it was lacking a name on the tab where a name should have been. Her fingers trembling, she placed the folder down on her desk and opened it.

Inside there was only one item: a single, long strip of aged-looking parchment. It was quite long, despite having been folded over in

half. Its edges all around it were ragged and torn, as if it were a page that had been ripped from a book. Whatever secret lie inside this folder was on the inside of this strip of folded parchment. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Sarah unfolded it.

Her panting breath caught in her throat. Her heart might have stopped. Her eyes were wide and glassy, pupils constricted in shock.

Harry, having almost caught his breath, finally spoke.

"Blimey that was close," he breathed, his sharp green eyes turning to Sarah. She was facing away from him, standing before her desk. She did not move or reply, or otherwise give any sign that she had heard him. "Wasn't it?"

Sarah couldn't hear him. Her ears were ringing. Her head felt dizzy and light, and it seemed as if her room was swimming around her.

"Sarah?" Harry asked, straightening up and taking another heavy breath. She still did not move or reply. "Are you alright?" he asked, stepping closer to her.

Now completely oblivious to Harry's presence, Sarah refolded the strip of parchment and gripped it tightly in her hand, crumpling it slightly. She then turned on her heel and strode straight past him, opening the door and slamming it behind her. Harry, bewildered, spent several seconds staring at the back of the door before he sprang into movement again, diving for the handle and jumping out into the corridor.

When he shut the door behind him, he saw that Sarah was already turning the corner and passing out of his sight. His mouth dropped open in confusion, his brows furrowed. He raced after her, his arm outstretched.

"Wait!" he yelled after her, skidding around the corner. She was already turning another corner. She was taking the same exact route that they had just taken to get up to the Room of Requirement. "Wait, where are you going?" he shouted, giving chase. _Where the bloody hell is she going?_ he thought to himself, _Is she __**leaving**__? What's gotten into her?_

Before he had left her room, he hadn't looked to see what she had been examining at her desk. He had no idea what she had seen.

Harry had to break into a quick jog as he followed after her, even though it seemed that she was only walking at an extremely brisk pace. Soon he was chasing her back down the snowy castle lawn, back over the fresh footprints that they had left only minutes before on their way up to the Room of Requirement.

"Wait!" he yelled after her again. "Where are you going? You can't leave, they might be looking for you! Wait!"

His desperate shouts to stop her echoed in the winter night's silence, falling mutely on Sarah's ears which were now deaf to everything but her own singular purpose. Harry had just reached inside his robe to touch his wand, toying with the idea of stopping her forcibly. He had no idea what she was doing, but he knew that it was extremely dangerous for her to be out in the open. She _had_ been seen, but he wasn't sure how clearly. For all they knew, descriptions of her and sketches could already be circulating throughout the magical community in Britain.

Before he could act, however, he realized that they had just stepped over the school's bounds. Harry stopped in his tracks, watching as Sarah continued to walk on for several more paces. Then, she too stopped, perfectly still. Harry breathed a short-lived sigh of relief until she began to move again, and he immediately realized what she was doing.

She was turning on the spot. She was going to Disapparate.

"_No!_" he shouted, dashing forward as quickly as he could. He lunged forward with all of his might.

He felt his arms close tightly around Sarah's midsection just as she completed her turn. Clinging to her tightly, he was pulled along with her back into the crushing blackness of Apparition, his destination unknown.

* * *

When they rematerialized, the momentum of Harry's would-be tackle had carried through their Apparition. Sarah was flung to the ground, Harry resting on top of her. Harry picked up his head, but before he had time to speak or register anything about his surroundings, the girl underneath him shoved him off of her roughly. He was pushed back hard onto what felt like pavement. Sarah was immediately on her feet, and without stopping to so much as glance at him, she was walking off. Harry sat up quickly, and in Sarah's wake, watched as what appeared to be an oblong piece of paper fluttered to the ground beside him.

He scooped it up as he stood, taking stock of his surroundings. Sarah had apparently taken them into a small, suburban Muggle neighborhood, not unlike Little Whinging. He was standing in the middle of a drive, a sidewalk on either side of him. Rows of little two-story homes stretched onward on either side of the street. Just as the houses on Privet Drive had all looked very similar to each other, so did these houses, but not quite as severely. Most of them were gaily decorated with colorful, blinking holiday lights and other festive fixtures. The street and sidewalks were clear, but there was quite a bit more snow here than there had been in London. The lawns of the Muggle houses were completely white, and the roofs and trees were all covered as well. Behind him was an intersection, where three more little residential streets branched off.

_Why did she bring us __**here**_?

The neighborhood was quiet. The night here, just as it had been up at the castle, was crisp, cold, and clear. The moon, almost half waned, was large and bright in the sky, and the stars were numerous and twinkling. The moon was shining so brightly that Harry doubted that he even needed the Muggle street lamp hovering above him in order to see. Still, he glanced up at it. Just below the lamp, there we street signs pointing in four different directions, indicating the different drives branching off from the four-way intersection. Pushing his glasses a bit farther up his nose, he examined them more closely.

The sign pointing toward the drive down which Sarah had stalked away read,

_Archer Crescent_

Harry tilted his head at it, narrowing his eyes and furrowing his brows. Why did that sound familiar?

When he realized how long he had been standing there idly, he began trotting down Archer Crescent in search of Sarah. As he went, he remembered the small scrap of paper he held in his hand. It appeared that Sarah had dropped it after shoving him off of her and walking away. He unfolded it curiously, wondering what it could be. When he came under another street lamp on his way down the drive, he glanced down at it.

He stopped in his tracks.

His mouth dropped open again. He raised it to his eyes, reading it carefully.

There, upon what looked like a neatly torn piece of aged-looking parchment, were large letters neatly scrawled out in bright red ink.

_Sarah Garrend 12 Archer Crescent, Spelthorne, Surrey_

Harry shook his head slowly.

_No... that can't be..._

Harry folded the piece of parchment along its crease, shoving it into his pocket and continuing forward. Hopefully he no longer had to wonder where Sarah had gotten to. He continued walking along the drive, counting the numbers of the houses on the even-numbered side to his left.

"Six," he whispered to himself, "Eight... Ten... Twelve."

Sure enough, there she was.

Sarah was standing before the small Muggle house, her dark, silhouetted form framed in the warm light flooding out of the house's large front window. She stood there on the lawn, ankle-deep in snow, standing in the center of the window, as close as she could stand to it before the short row of bushes planted along the front of the house prevented her from coming any closer without trampling them. She was perfectly still and silent.

Harry slowly approached her, trudging through the snow on the lawn. Saying nothing, he came to stand next to her, peering inside the window to see what had enraptured her so thoroughly.

The window looked into the house's living room. Just beyond it, clearly visible, was the dining room. There was a table laden with a delicious-looking meal. Harry watched as the family inside gathered around it, sitting themselves down to dinner. First was a tall, thickly-built, but kind-looking man with dark brown hair and even darker brown eyes. He pulled out a chair for the woman who had entered the room. She was shorter than the man but average in height. Both the man and the woman looked somehow familiar to Harry, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The woman's eyes were hazel, but her hair was a dark brown, long and straight...

_No..._

It had begun dawning upon him.

_This can't be..._

After the woman was seated, the man seated himself across from her at the head of the table. Only a moment later, two children rushed into the room. It looked as if they were laughing happily. The tallest, and apparently eldest, was a young boy who greatly resembled his father more so than his mother, but bore his mother's hazel eyes. The other was a young girl, at least a couple years younger than her brother. She resembled both of her parents. She had her mother's long, straight brown hair, and her father's dark brown eyes, and looked entirely too much like...

Harry couldn't find any words. He turned to the girl beside him. Her dark brown eyes were wide and shaking slightly as they darted between the different people at the dining room table. They looked glassy and unfocused, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Harry didn't blame her; he couldn't believe it either. He stood there silently beside his friend, gazing into the Muggle household as the people in the dining room began eating their meal.

A few silent minutes later, Sarah turned away from the window, stepping away from the house in a daze. She got as far as the street before she collapsed to her knees on the frozen pavement. Harry slowly followed after her, completely unsure of what to do or say. He breathed in, about to speak, to say something, anything, when Sarah began punching the pavement beneath her.

Each slam of her fist into the pavement was punctuated with an anguished yell.

"_They... took... away... my... LIFE!_" she shouted.

Harry rushed forward quickly, certain that she would injure herself on the pavement. He knelt down next to her, placing an arm around her shoulder in an attempt to stop her. She had been almost completely oblivious to his presence, and the touch startled her. She yelled, springing to her feet and shoving Harry away from her extremely roughly. He was thrown back hard, stumbling backwards several feet before he finally lost his balance and fell onto the street.

After adjusting his glasses, he sat up.

He looked up to where Sarah stood.

For one terrifying, paralyzing, heart-stopping instant, he had flashes that he was once again staring up into the glowing red eyes of Voldemort.

Sarah looked down at her friend sprawled out in the street a few feet away from her, breathing heavily, and her face contorted in an expression of rage. It only took her a moment to realize that Harry appeared to be terrified as he looked back up at her. Her eyes felt like they were burning. Her facial expression softened immediately, and she slowed her breathing. She turned toward the curb, and dropped to her hands and knees.

There, reflected in a patch of ice illuminated by the bright moon above, she could see herself. Her eyes were glowing red. At some point, the glamour that kept her new, strange eye color a secret had faded. She sighed deeply. With a few hard blinks, they ceased their glowing, but still remained red. She then fell back, content to just sit on the frozen pavement, looking defeated. She turned her head toward Harry, who was still looking shocked and speechless, as well as pale.

When he saw that her eyes were no longer alight, Harry righted himself, getting to his feet and approaching her where she sat.

"How- how-," he began stuttering, unsure of how to pose the question.

Sarah, knowing exactly what he had been about to ask, supplied an answer.

"They've been like this since I got to Hogwarts," she sighed. "Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape know. So does Madam Pomfrey. We don't know why. We've been hiding it with a glamour charm for obvious reasons."

Harry knelt down next to her again.

"I'm sorry I scared you," she said softly, looking down at their reflections in the patch of ice.

"It's alright, no worries," Harry assured her, the real topic at hand still having yet to be broached. Sarah's brain must be positively shut down, he thought to himself. If he were her, he would probably be bawling. He took a deep breath.

"Sarah, I-," he began.

He was interrupted by a loud _crack_. It came from several yards off to their right. Someone had just Apparated into their location.

Harry immediately sprang to his feet, drawing his wand along the way. He looked toward the newly arrived figure, expectant to see a Ministry uniform of some kind, or perhaps even an Auror that he recognized. Instead, the figure was completely cloaked in black.

Sarah, still dazed and defeated, merely turned her head in the figure's direction. Maybe they were about to be hauled in by the law for breaking into the bank.

Maybe not.

Harry, his wand trained on the cloaked figure, did not move.

"Who are you?" he asked loudly, "What do you want?"

The cloaked figure did not reply to Harry. Instead, it slowly took a step closer to them.

"Stay back, I'm warning you!" Harry shouted, brandishing his wand. He had no idea who this was, but they were obviously not an Auror or some other Ministry-affiliated person. He had an extremely bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. There was no possible way they could have been followed or tracked to here, he thought. How could anyone possibly know where they were, or why?

"Poor girl," a voice from underneath the cloaked figure's hood cooed. Despite their efforts to sound kind and cajoling, Harry could immediately tell that there was no sympathy there whatsoever.

Harry's eyes narrowed.

Sarah, slowly breaking out of her daze, stood up on shaky legs, taking several steps backward so that Harry was between her and the figure. She too realized that something was wrong here. She pulled her hood up over her head and drew her own wand from inside her robes, but did not point it at the figure. She merely let it hang ready at her side.

Despite Harry's warning, the cloaked figure continued slowly advancing upon them, step by step. In turn, Harry and Sarah were slowly backing away, keeping the distance between them even so the figure did not get any closer.

"Stay back!" Harry warned again.

"Don't you want to know what happened, poor girl?" the figure underneath the hood asked. He seemed to be ignoring Harry and his threats, intent only on Sarah.

Harry gritted his teeth. The voice coming from underneath the hood sounded somehow familiar, but he did not know how. A foggy image began swimming in his mind, a vague image of a man with an overhanging forehead, long black hair, and a beard streaked with silver. He searched his mind desperately, but could find no more.

"Harry," Sarah whimpered weakly from behind him, trying to draw his attention. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he could see more figures cloaked in black emerging from the shadows. When he looked forward again, two more figures had appeared next to the first. They were being surrounded. They had somehow walked into a trap.

"Don't you want to know who did this to you?" the first figure cooed again, drawing ever closer.

"Who are you people, what is this all about!" Harry demanded, his wand jumping between the three figures before him in his field of vision. "Stay back, don't come any closer!"

Sarah, who was standing back-to-back with Harry, was doing the same, aiming her wand at each of the three figures that she could see. There were six of them in all.

"Pretty girl," Harry heard one of the figures closest to Sarah say, but was unable to spare a glance over his shoulder. The voice was grainy and rasping, and eerily familiar to him. "You sure we can't-,"

The figure with the grainy, rasping voice was silenced with a sharp elbow from one of its fellows.

"Don't you want to know _why_?" the first figure cooed. "We can tell you, poor girl. We can tell you who did this to you. Just listen to us."

The circle of figures was inching closer around them. They couldn't possibly try and Disapparate now. They would surely be stopped. Whoever these people were, Harry knew, they were no friends to Sarah. They had to get out of here.

"One more step and I'll curse you!" Harry yelled, hoping that the figures would stop in their advance, but they didn't. In fact, it made things worse; the figures raised their own wands, three wands trained on each of them.

There was no time to spare. Harry knew that he couldn't let them come any closer.

"Now!" Harry yelled, hoping Sarah would take the cue. Sharp as ever, she did.

"_STUPEFY!_" they both shouted in unison, each sending jets of red light at a single cloaked figure. Both of them hit their mark. The figure directly in front of Harry, the same figure who had appeared first and had been speaking to Sarah, was bowled over and knocked down with force. The figure Sarah had aimed at was hit with considerably more force, blasted back several yards and landing on the pavement in a heap.

There was immediate retaliation from the other figures, but Harry and Sarah had both yelled,

"_Protego!_"

They successfully deflected the spells. Harry grabbed Sarah's arm hard and began running. They had been surrounded, but he took advantage of the hole he had made in their line by stunning one of them.

"Stop her!" someone yelled, and curses were immediately being fired after them.

Harry spun about again, protecting them with another shield charm, but it was quickly shattered by powerful spells. A streak of white light had struck Sarah, who hadn't turned around. She tumbled to the pavement, and Harry had no choice but to move to protect her while she struggled to regain her feet. They were surrounded again in short measure, and the figure that Harry had stunned was already stirring a short distance away.

Before he knew what was happening, he and Sarah were both dueling two cloaked figures apiece, with a fifth one switching between both of them. Harry had seen worse and was confident that he could handle himself, but he was fearful for Sarah. As far as he knew, she had never seriously dueled anyone, let alone faced a life-and-death situation with a wand in her hand. With two opponents of his own to content with, he was unable to aid her, and simply had to trust that she would be able to hold her own until he could. He completely lost track of her as he fought, deflecting spells and attempting to neutralize his attackers. Curses were flying wildly through the night. The Muggles inside their homes probably did not notice at all; the bright flashes blended right in with the bright shine of their holiday lights.

Harry heard Sarah shriek behind him, but could not turn to help.

"_Reducto!_" he shouted, aiming at the feet of one of his opponents. The pavement there exploded forcefully, throwing the cloaked figure backwards. Before the figure could regain his feet, Harry was able to successfully disarm them, stun them, and body-bind them with impressively fast spellwork.

Before he could turn his attention to another opponent, he yelled out in pain and dropped to one knee. His right forearm, having been outstretched while spellcasting, had been slashed as if by a knife, and the cut burned intensely. Righting himself immediately, he turned to the cloaked figure who had fired the spell at him.

"_Impedimenta!_" Harry bellowed. The figure was blasted back forcefully, tripping over the curb and falling back against an iron lamppost, where Harry heard a satisfying clang.

Ropes were suddenly snaking their way up his left leg; another figure, who had apparently been dueling Sarah only a moment before, had turned its attention to Harry, with ropes springing forth from the tip of its wand. There also came another yell from behind him, but it did not belong to Sarah this time.

"_Relashio!_" he yelled, pointing his wand at the ropes climbing his body. Fiery red sparks shot forth at them, causing the ropes to slacken their grip. There came a howl of pain from somewhere behind him, again not belonging to Sarah; Harry then cried, "_Diffindo!_", cutting the ropes away completely, but also grazing his leg. Before the figure who had attempted to bind him could react, Harry countered with a stinging hex, causing the figure to drop its wand and grope at its body in pain. Harry then blasted the figure away with a stun, watching as the figure landed in the snow upon one of the Muggle lawns.

A spell from somewhere behind him struck him suddenly, sending him flying onto the pavement, his glasses knocked askew. Before he could right himself, he heard another yell, but again, it clearly did not belong to Sarah.

When he regained his feet and adjusted his glasses, he raised his wand in the direction the yell had come from, finally able to help Sarah.

His eyes widened, his heavy breathing catching in his throat.

There stood Sarah in the middle of the street, her wand all but discarded on the pavement next to her, several feet away. Both of the figures that they had initially stunned had come around, but one of them was already lying in another heap, having been sent crashing into some fencing in front of one of the houses by some tremendous force.

The pavement at Sarah's feet was cracked and fractured as if by tremendous heat. One of the two still-standing figures slashed its wand at her, and Harry yelled aloud and rushed forward as he watched Sarah struck by a whip of purple flames across her body. She howled in pain and staggered back, but immediately stepped forward toward her attacker again.

Without waving a wand, without uttering a spell, she thrust her palm out toward the figure, her fingers splayed; Harry, who had nearly reached Sarah, was struck by an invisible wall of force which sent him reeling. The air around Sarah crackled oddly. He heard a loud crash as Sarah's attacker was sent flying into a small automobile parked in a Muggle driveway two houses down.

Harry struggled to his feet again, watching as another figure was trying unsuccessfully to bind her. She simply batted the conjured ropes away with her wandless hands, and they seemed to smolder and burn away when they came in contact with her. The figure then sent a streak of yellow light at Sarah. It struck her in the shoulder, and she staggered back again, giving the figure enough time to again slash his wand at her, cutting her deeply in places with some unknown curse.

"No! Stop!" Harry yelled, rushing forward again, "_Protego!_"

His shield charm reached her, but it was shattered immediately by another spell from the cloaked figure.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Harry yelled.

The cloaked figure was disarmed.

Before Harry could finish the figure off with a stun, Sarah sprang into action again, directing her outstretched palm toward it forcefully; another shockwave burst forth, the air crackling around her, knocking Harry back again, but striking the cloaked figure with terrifying effect. The figure was thrown back, howling in agony as if afflicted by the Cruciatus Curse, landing in a heap upon the pavement, convulsing for a moment before becoming still entirely.

Harry stood there, panting and glancing about frantically. The deep gash in his arm was bleeding generously and was extremely painful, but he tried to ignore it. All of the cloaked figures seemed to be down. He turned to Sarah who was standing in the center of the street, looking unsteady on her feet. He was not close enough to clearly see the extent of her injuries in the darkness. All Harry knew was that they had to get out of here, and _fast_.

With a jolt of fear, one of the figures that Harry had dealt with sprang to life again, streaking across the street with terrifying speed and unnatural agility. Harry was ready to cast another shield charm, but no wand was drawn. No spell came. Instead, the figure outright lunged at Sarah just as she had turned toward it, taking her down to the pavement brutally.

For the umpteenth time that night, Harry's heart stopped. The cloaked figure had lost its hood while lunging at Sarah.

Fenrir Greyback was now sitting astride his friend, his muscled arm raised to strike.

Any spell Harry could have aimed at him might have hit Sarah too.

In a blind panic, Harry rushed forward, lunging at the werewolf, tackling him off of Sarah, but not before she had been gashed across the collar bone savagely.

Harry rolled across the pavement with the werewolf atop him and beneath him, struggling against his brute strength, inhaling the sickening scent of sweat, blood, and dirt. Greyback's hands were coming at him, and Harry fought with all of his strength to keep those deadly claws at bay.

"_You're-_" Harry grunted out while struggling with the snarling man, "_Supposed... to... be... DEAD!_" Harry had managed to direct the tip of his wand at the werewolf, but he dodged uncannily, springing back and leaping off of Harry before he could be hit with a spell. As he leapt away, Harry tore the cloak from him, fully revealing him.

Harry regained his feet as quickly as possible, jumping back.

A very alive Fenrir Greyback was standing several yards away from him, laughing lowly. Harry was disgusted by what he saw. His long, matted gray hair was now more resemblant than ever to fur. The teeth he bared were as fiercely pointed as fangs, and his yellow eyes gleamed brightly in the moonlight. He was even more physically warped than before, corrupted and deranged by his blood lust, stuck somewhere in between human and werewolf form. His ears were now strangely pointed. Tufts of gray fur, which had previously been hair, streaked his bulging forearms. His fingernails, which had before only been long, yellowish, and claw-like, were now quite literally claws. It appeared that he was having great difficulty standing upright; after a few moments, he leaned forward so that the knuckles of his right hand rested on the ground.

The werewolf continued laughing lowly. Harry looked to Sarah; she did not move.

"Supposed to be dead and _actually_ dead are two different things, Potter," growled Greyback, barking out a laugh. "I'm an animal, you see. It's amazing where playing dead will get you."

Hatred and anger welled up inside Harry.

"_DIE!_" Harry shouted, sending a streak of red light at the werewolf.

Greyback leapt aside with incredible reflex.

"You'll have to do better than that to finish _me_ off, Potter!" he snarled.

He was then coming straight at him. Harry shot off another stun, but it was easily dodged again, and before he knew it, Greyback was upon him in a blur. His speed and strength were quite clearly something more than human.

Harry was backhanded hard across the face, sending him down onto the pavement where his glasses skidded away from him. He reached for them and only just managed to slam them back onto his face before the werewolf was over him again. He rolled to the side, dodging a blow which hit the pavement, causing the werewolf to yelp as his fist slammed into the hard, frozen surface.

Harry, with just enough time to spring to his feet, slashed his wand toward Greyback.

"_Sectumsempra_!" he shouted, managing to graze the werewolf with a deep slash, causing him to jump back.

In a single leap, however, the werewolf was on him again. Harry grimaced as he was tackled to the pavement, locked in an intense physical struggle. A hard punch came at him, hitting him in the jaw painfully. Making a fist around his wand, Harry punched back, hitting the Greyback in the side of the head, causing them to roll over, gaining Harry the upper hand with the werewolf underneath him. He immediately threw another punch, but his wrist was caught in the werewolf's hand, stopping his momentum. The werewolf then squeezed, crushing Harry's wrist with frightening strength and digging sharp claws into his flesh.

Harry yelled in pain, kneeing the werewolf in the side several times with all of his strength. When the grip on his wrist slackened, he followed through, punching Greyback in the jaw twice. The werewolf snarled loudly, trying to aim another punch at the side of Harry's head, but Harry ducked, allowing him enough time to push the tip of his wand into the werewolf's chest. Harry had few options. He had to use an Unforgiveable. The hatred and anger flowing through him was more than enough catalyst to make the spell effective.

"_Crucio!_" he shouted.

The werewolf immediately howled in agony and Harry jumped off of him, keeping his wand trained on the writhing figure. Harry watched, pitiless, as the savage beast of a man convulsed with the torturous pain. After a moment, Harry ended the spell. The werewolf was groaning and began to stir, but Harry would not let him get back up. Shouting, Harry aimed stun after stun at the werewolf's prone form, blasting him down the pavement several yards until he was satisfied that Greyback was either dead or unconscious. At the moment, Harry didn't care which.

He struggled to catch his breath. His body was throbbing all over from where he had been thrown and tackled to the pavement. He could taste the tang of blood in his mouth from where he had been punched in the jaw, and his right forearm pulsed with pain, having been slashed by a curse and clawed by Greyback. He could feel warm blood trickling down his hand and onto his wand.

When his head had cleared enough to allow him to think again, his attention immediately turned to Sarah. She was lying on her back on the pavement, not having moved since being taken down by the werewolf. Harry had seen her gashed by him, but had no idea what might have happened to her during the time that they had been dueling. He bounded over to her, scooping up her discarded wand along the way, shoving it into an inside pocket along with his own. He dropped to his knees beside her, fearing the worst.

She was alive, but unconscious. Harry could have hoped for her to be in better condition. Her robes were tattered and torn by the curses that had hit her. Her arms had been cut deeply in a similar manner to Harry's. She had been gashed deeply by the werewolf's claws across her left collarbone, but it was the injury to her right shoulder which scared Harry most. He had seen a streak of yellow light hit her here. From the way her robes were punctured and darkened by blood, it almost looked as if she had been shot by a Muggle firearm. As far as Harry could tell, those were all of the serious injuries he could see, but she was otherwise badly beaten and bruised from being tackled by Greyback and tossed to the pavement.

"It's alright, you're going to be alright," Harry said to her, even though he knew that she could not hear. His voice was shaky.

He picked his head up, examining the scene around him. Six unconscious figures lay strewn about the Muggle street in varying states of injury. Only one of the figures had been identified; the other five remained a mystery.

He was faced with a dilemma. All of the figures were now knocked out. He could put an end at least to the mystery of their identities by running to each one to pull down their hoods. At the same time, it was painfully evident that Sarah was in dire need of medical attention. If he spared a few moments to unmask the figures, what would become of her? What if his hesitation to get her aid cost Sarah her life, or resulted in some other permanent injury?

Harry shook his head as he looked all around at the still-cloaked figures.

There was no time to spare. He had to get his friend help immediately.

Then, another dilemma occurred to him.

_But where?_

He couldn't possibly take her to St. Mungo's if the Ministry was on the hunt for a girl with an unknown identity who matched Sarah's description. He couldn't take her into the hospital wing at Hogwarts either; too many questions would be asked, and Harry wouldn't be able to suitably explain what happened without fully confessing that they were the ones who had broken into Gringotts, and explaining that they had somehow walked right into a trap. He had learned a tiny amount of healing magic from Hermione before the start of term, but only enough to deal with small cuts and bruises at best. Sarah's injuries, as well as his own, were far beyond his skill to heal, or even Hermione's skill for that matter.

One thing was clear. She needed help, and she needed it fast.

Harry sighed to himself. He thought wildly of what to do next, trying at all outcomes to avoid having to take her to St. Mungo's or Hogwarts.

Then an idea came to him. His eyes widened and he gasped slightly. It was a last-ditch idea, but it might work. If it failed, however, he would have no choice but to take her into Hogwarts, a more attractive alternative to St. Mungo's.

Harry gently took a hold of Sarah's arms, trying his best to avoid touching her wounds. He pulled her into a sitting position and draped her left arm over his shoulders, grasping her hand in his. He then wrapped his right arm around Sarah's torso as tightly as he could. He stood with great effort, lifting Sarah's limp, unconscious form along with him, supported by his body.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, picturing again a small Muggle village where a single huge chimney dominated the skyline, picturing a small, deserted playground as clearly as he possibly could...

Eyes still closed, he stepped forward, holding Sarah tightly as he pulled them both back into the crushing darkness.

* * *

When they reappeared, Harry breathed a huge sigh of relief when he found them to be in the center of the small, deserted playground that he had been picturing in his mind's eye. In the darkness he could not tell how considerably run-down it looked. Re-securing his grip on Sarah, he walked forward as quickly as he could, looking desperately for a lamppost or a street sign, anything that would point him in the direction that he needed to go. He found a lamppost around the corner from the small playground, where three identical brick lanes branched off from an intersection.

It was considerably darker here than it had been in Surrey. Wherever they were, thick clouds were obscuring most of the moonlight. Unable to draw his wand while both of his hands were busy keeping Sarah upright, he had to drag both of them to stand directly under the dim light of the lamppost. He squinted up at the street signs, closing his right eye; he had only just noticed that his right eyeglass lens was cracked.

"There," he breathed, finding the sign that he wanted.

A sign reading _Spinner's End_ pointed down the lane which branched off to their left. Holding Sarah tight, Harry walked as quickly as their predicament would allow. The winding lane led him in a downward slope. The scent of semi-stagnant water began to fill his nostrils as he went. _Good,_ he thought to himself, _the river._

The lane curved to the right sharply, and Harry followed it. Off to his left was a small, dirty-looking river with litter strewn upon its banks. Small houses began cropping up on either side of the lane. It could not have been very late into the evening yet, but all of their windows seemed to be darkened, as if no one lived in them. Harry kept an eye on the postboxes of each house as he walked by, reading their names, hoping desperately that he would find the one he was searching for.

To his horror, he began to feel something warm soaking through the clothing on his back where Sarah's unconscious form was resting against him. She was bleeding onto him. He quickened his pace, frightened as he neared the end of the lane. He hadn't yet spotted the desired name on any of the other postboxes. The house at the very end of the lane, however, had lit windows. Light was shining out from them. Someone was definitely in there. As he drew closer to it, he could see that this particular house had no Muggle postbox out in front of it.

_This has to be it_, he announced inside his mind.

He stepped off the brick lane, onto the house's small cobblestone path.

"Please be here, please be here, please be here," he whispered to himself as he approached the door.

Stepping up onto the house's front step, he gripped Sarah as tightly as he could with his right arm, making a fist with his left hand and pounding on the door several times.

Then, he waited.


	23. The Savior

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 23: The Savior.

* * *

_Bang, bang, bang._

There came several loud knocks on the front door. Snape, seated at his kitchen table, raised his head up from his tea and reading, looking thoroughly discontented. Who the bloody hell could be calling at this hour? And in _this_ neighborhood, especially. As far as he knew, most of the homes on his street had been deserted for years. He sat idle for a few moments, mentally debating whether or not to bother answering the door. It was probably just some bothersome Muggle who had gotten lost; barely anyone in the magical community, save for a select few, would know where to call on him outside of Hogwarts. What reason could any of them possibly have to be calling on him so urgently without first Owling him about it?

_Bang, bang, bang._

The knocks came again, louder this time. Whomever was at the door, Snape realized, was truly desperate. If it had simply been a lost Muggle, as he at first presumed, they probably would have left when they received no answer to their first knocks. Someone had definitely come to see him intentionally. Whatever those intentions might be, however, were a mystery.

_Bang, bang, bang._

He barely had time to think before the slamming on the door intensified. With a heavy sigh, he rose from his chair, leaving his half-finished tea and reading at the table. With a few long-legged strides, he was in the sitting room; a room which greatly resembled a dark, padded cell, with threadbare furniture, walls lined with overflowing bookcases, and a dim, candle-filled lamp hanging from the ceiling. As he strode across the room, he quickly reached inside his robe to feel for his wand. It was an old habit, one that would probably never die; he would never be caught answering the door without it.

Reaching the door, he quickly reached for the handle and flung it open, situating himself in the center of the door frame, arms crossed, expression extremely sour, and ready to berate his interloper.

His expression quickly soured even more when he took stock of the young, untidy-haired, bespectacled man standing before him. This was the last person he ever expected to have pounding on his front door late in the evening.

"_Potter?_" it slipped from his mouth automatically, mostly full of confusion rather than dislike.

In the next instant, his eyes shot open wide when he realized the entire scope of what he was looking at; there stood Potter on his front doorstep, beaten and bloody, his clothing ragged, and his eyeglasses damaged. With an arm draped over his shoulder, being supported by him entirely, was the girl, unconscious, and looking even more worse for wear than Potter was. Both of them looked extremely pale, but the girl more so.

Harry looked up at him, his expression pleading. He barely knew what to say to this man with whom he shared such a turbulent and painful past. He could do little more than stand there, struggling to support Sarah's unconscious weight, and hoping with all of his might that Snape would be able to help her. As he looked up at Snape, however, Snape was not looking back at him; instead, Harry saw as Snape's deep, black eyes raked over the girl's battered and injured form. Harry's heavy breathing stilled in his throat for a moment when he caught in Snape's eyes a glimpse of that same soft, hidden vulnerability that he had seen on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, when Snape had been about to die... or so he thought.

Suddenly, Snape stepped aside, his expression serious.

"Inside," he said.

Harry, breathing a huge sigh of relief, dragged Sarah over the door's threshold and into the sitting room. Before he had even taken three labored steps forward, the door was slammed loudly behind him and locked. Snape then came sweeping before him again, where he waved his wand at the large threadbare sofa in the center of the room. The back and side cushions leapt off onto the floor in no particular arrangement.

"Set her down," Snape ordered before Harry even reached the sofa. Snape watched as Harry began slowly lowering Sarah to lay on it. A fear unlike any other he had felt in recent history gripped Snape cold when he saw the widening extent of the girl's injuries, which had mostly been obscured by Harry's body supporting her. Her robes were even more ragged and torn than Harry's. Bright, crimson blood was dripping down her pale skin in places. The robes on her right shoulder were punctured and darkened; she was bleeding there too. As Harry set her down completely, Snape could see that the back of the boy's own shoulder, where he had been supporting the girl, was darkened with her blood.

Snape rushed forward to where the girl lay, hesitant to even lay a trembling hand on her injured form. He looked far more pale than usual.

"Potter!" he snapped, waving his wand blindly at the wall off to his right. Harry flinched out of habit when Snape waved his wand, watching as a secret door opened to reveal a narrow, darkened staircase leading upwards. "Second door on the left, potion cabinet. Small green bottle, Essence of Dittany. Small red bottle, Blood-Replenishing Potion. Go!" he commanded, not even looking up, and barely sparing words as he examined the girl.

"Right," Harry supplied, running toward the narrow staircase. He thundered up its steps in just a few strides, the wood creaking noisily beneath his feet. The narrow upstairs hallway was extremely dark. Harry immediately drew his wand, flinching in pain as he did so. In his rush to get Sarah to help, and now to obey Snape's commands, he had all but forgotten about his own injuries. They stung painfully, but he supposed that he could forget about them for at least a little while longer.

"_Lumos!_" he said, his wand illuminating the hallway. He paced forward quickly, locating the second door on the left that Snape had indicated for him. Opening it, he discovered a small closet. In a normal Muggle home it would probably have been used as a linen closet, but in Snape's home, it was stocked floor to ceiling with a dizzying amount of potion bottles. Harry scanned the shelves with his wandlight, the many bottles glinting brightly. Most of them were completely covered in dust; they must have been quite old.

Several small red bottles labeled _Blood-Replenishing Potion_ caught his eye almost instantly, and he grabbed one up. The small green bottles that Snape had described, however, proved harder to locate amongst a myriad of other bottles in dark colors. After a minute or two of searching, he finally found a small grouping of dark green bottles labeled _Essence of Dittany_. Grabbing one, he dashed back down the hallway toward the stairs, not bothering to shut the small closet's door.

Harry bounded back down the staircase in a few leaping strides, setting the bottles down on the side-table next to the arm of the sofa, near where Snape was kneeling and examining Sarah. He then moved around to the other side of Snape for a better view, wringing his hands nervously and failing to notice the slickness of his own blood upon them.

Suddenly, Snape's hands went to Sarah's chest, roughly ripping away her robes and shirt to expose her injuries. Harry winced and looked away in consideration for her, and also out of fear that Snape might not enjoy Harry looking at her either. He hadn't expected Snape to look up at him just then.

"Come on, Potter," Snape said harshly with a roll of his eyes, now looking up at Harry with a glare, "This is hardly the time for modesty. What made this?" he asked impatiently, motioning to the injury on Sarah's shoulder which resembled a gunshot wound.

Harry opened his eyes and looked back at Sarah, examining the wound. He thought hard for a moment and remembered what had produced it; he had seen a strange streak of yellow light which had struck Sarah in the right shoulder.

"I don't- I'm not sure, I-," Harry stammered. He had heard no spoken incantation, and he had never seen a spell like that before. "I don't know what spell it was, but it was a streak of yellow light that hit her in the shoulder."

Snape did not reply. He looked back down at the girl, raising his wand to the wound on her shoulder. He then began muttering what sounded like a counter-curse. Harry watched in amazement as the terrible wound began to fade and heal with astonishing quickness. Harry dare not ask, but he could guess what this must have meant; Snape knew whatever horrible spell had produced this wound, and therefore knew its counter-curse.

After the wound had faded, Snape moved on to the girl's arms. The bleeding slashes there had clearly been produced by a Sectumsempra, or a similar spell. He artfully performed the counter-curse, murmuring precise words that sounded like song. Harry had not seen, but she had also been slashed a few places on her torso as well, and Snape made quick work of the wounds. Only faint lines remained, as if the wounds had healed naturally over a long period of time.

When Snape had finished healing the gashes on her right arm, he paused suddenly, eyes widening.

"This," Snape demanded, taking the girl's forearm in his hand and raising it up so that Harry could see her exposed wrist. "What is this?"

Harry leaned forward, perplexed. When his eyes fell on what Snape was referring to, his eyes widened as well; there upon the underside of her wrist, a little larger than a two pence, was a bright red marking. Harry leaned in closer for a better look. The strange symbol resembled an eight-pointed star. Eight different lines diverged from the center point, each tipped with an arrow. It looked as if it had been branded into her skin.

"I have no idea," Harry replied honestly, shaking his head back and forth. Unconsciously, he touched his own scar with his fingertips as his mind raced, trying to figure out what it could possibly be. Aside from himself, he had never seen strange markings appear on people's skin before.

Snape ran his thumb over the marking a few times. There was no blood, and it did not seem to be causing her any apparent harm. He had no idea what in the world it could be, and with more pressing injuries to attend to, he was forced to forget about it for the time being. He replaced the girl's arm at her side.

Harry was relieved that Snape had made so much progress so quickly on her, but she still looked extremely pale. He was not surprised when the next action Snape took was to grab the small red bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion. He un-stoppered it and gently tilted Sarah's head back, putting the small bottle to her lips. He was able to carefully get several drops of the potion into her mouth before he stoppered it and set it aside again. He then moved on to examining her other wounds.

Snape eyed the gashes across her collar bone nervously. It almost looked as if she had been attacked by a large animal, perhaps a dog.

"These," Snape asked sternly, "What made these?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat, and he felt a new jolt of fear for the first time since escaping with Sarah from the Muggle neighborhood.

"Well?" Snape demanded when Harry did not respond immediately, for which he received an impatient glare.

"Greyback," Harry supplied nervously, "Fenrir Greyback clawed her."

Snape's impatient glare melted into shock and disbelief.

"That's... not possible," Snape said, his voice quiet. His quick black eyes darted across Harry's own wounds. The boy had been beaten up quite a bit himself, and probably lost quite a bit of his own blood. There must be some kind of other explanation. "You must simply be delirious."

"I'm not," Harry replied, his voice full of conviction. He then raised his right forearm and pulled back the sleeve of his robes, revealing several deep claw marks from where Greyback had grabbed him to prevent an incoming punch. "I fought him. If I hadn't tackled him off of her, she'd have gotten a lot worse than that," he said, eyeing Sarah's gashes. "There are a lot of things that Fenrir Greyback is supposed to be, but apparently dead isn't one of them anymore."

Snape's eyes, through which his feelings were often inscrutable, were now quite clearly full of fear as he examined Harry's arm. There was no mistaking it. Potter was telling the truth, no matter how absurd it sounded.

"Bloody hell," Snape said, jumping to his feet. He quickly tilted his head upward, looking at the ceiling, as if his eyes could see through it to the night sky above.

"It's not the full moon," Harry said quickly, somehow knowing what was going on inside Snape's mind.

Without replying, Snape turned and swept from the room, sprinting up the small, narrow staircase which Harry had just descended a few minutes before. Harry had never seen Snape lose his composure in quite this way. He didn't have to guess why.

As Harry stood there waiting for Snape to return, he began growing more and more aware of his own wounds, which he had thus far managed to forget for Sarah's sake. Everything was throbbing with pain, especially the marks that Greyback had left on him. He bit the inside of his lip hard, trying once again to forget. It was his usual mindset of selflessness. He would make sure Sarah was alright before he would begin worrying about himself. She had, after all, been hurt much worse than he had been. Also, if anything were to happen to her, he could probably expect to take the blame from Snape. That didn't bode very well for his health either.

A minute later, Snape returned, holding what looked to be a jar of salve. As soon as he twisted its lid open, Harry's nostrils were assaulted with its scent, and his mind was sent spinning into vivid memories of that night in the hospital wing so long ago, watching as Mrs. Weasley dabbed something foul-smelling onto Bill's wounds. _Oh no..._ Harry immediately thought to himself, _Bill..._. His wounds had healed quite a lot, but to this day, he still lived with the terrible scars of his encounter with Fenrir Greyback.

Harry leaned over Sarah, his concern renewed, not even thinking about the fact that he too bore similar wounds on his arm. Snape had begun dabbing the salve onto Sarah's wounds generously, looking nervous and focused all at once.

"Is she going to be alright?" Harry could not help himself from asking.

Snape continued treating the wounds, carefully dabbing on the salve.

"They are not too deep," Snape replied, his voice having taken on a softer tone. "They might be able to heal almost fully, with time. In the worst case, there will be some scarring."

Harry nodded silently, but did not reply.

"No doubt you are thinking of the eldest Weasley," Snape conjectured, turning to glance at Harry for a moment while he treated Sarah.

Harry nodded once.

"Yes," he said, once again rolling back his sleeve to inspect his own wounds.

"These are much lesser wounds," Snape said, straightening up, having apparently applied enough of the salve. He then turned toward Harry again, inspecting his arm. "Even lesser, in your case. Sit," he said, motioning to the coffee table only inches away.

Harry obeyed without thinking, taking a seat on the unoccupied coffee table. Snape seated himself next to him.

"Agh!" Harry yelled in surprise, his arm stinging terribly. He instantly pulled it away, wincing. Snape had dabbed a bit of the salve on one of his claw marks.

Snape sighed impatiently.

"You are going to have to sit still, Potter." he said, smirking.

"Blimey," Harry sighed, holding his arm back out for Snape. He winced and hissed in pain again when he began reapplying the salve. He kept his eyes on Sarah as Snape worked, trying to avoid looking at where the pain was coming from. "Lucky she's unconscious for this bit. That really smarts."

When Snape had finished applying the painful salve, he began using the counter-curse on Harry's still-bleeding gashes. Harry sat dumbfounded through the entire process; he could never have imagined a time when Snape would be healing his wounds. Perhaps it was only out of thanks for bringing Sarah to him when she needed help so badly. Even so, Harry didn't doubt that soon he would be berated with angry questions about what he had let happen to her, and why.

When Snape was finished, he stood, picking up the small red bottle on the end table beside the sofa. He turned and handed it to Harry.

"You'll be wanting to drink at least a few drops of this," he explained.

Harry nodded and took the bottle from him. Snape's eyes were already back on Sarah. Apparently he had decided that she was stable enough to let alone for the moment, at least.

Harry took a deep breath. Now was as good a time as ever.

"She still loves you, you know," Harry said softly, standing. He flinched slightly when Snape's head instantly jerked in his direction, his expression somewhat dark.

"I don't know too much about what happened between you," Harry explained slowly, meeting Snape's eyes without fear, "But whatever happened recently, she's been miserable ever since."

For several silent moments, they stood there, only a few feet apart. Black eyes were once again locked with green. Snape didn't know what to feel; there were too many intense emotions swirling chaotically within him. He was furious that Potter had somehow let Sarah come to so much harm, and almost every fiber of his being was fighting against grilling Potter about what in the bloody hell they had been doing. At the same time, he was incredibly relieved that Potter had brought her here and that he had been able to tend to her extensive wounds with his own hands, and that she was going to be alright. This only raised further questions, however. Why hadn't Potter taken the girl to St. Mungo's? Snape would begrudgingly admit that Potter was not quite as dim as he tended to preach. There _had_ to be a reason why he had not taken her there.

To top it all off, Potter definitely knew at least _something_ about the goings on between them. This added to his rage. To the boy's credit, however, it had not become public scandal, so he mustn't have told anyone. Even so, after having heard that the girl had been miserable since he had thrown her out of his office, coupled with staring into those emerald green, almond-shaped eyes which so resembled Lily's, he was able to marshal his anger.

Taking a steadying breath, Snape eyed Harry's poor state again. His robes were ragged, torn, and darkened, still damp with blood. Some of the blood on his arms and hands was still bright scarlet, not having dried yet. He was extremely pale, and beginning to look unsteady on his feet. No doubt the blood loss and exhaustion from whatever fight he had managed to get himself and the girl into were affecting him. It appeared to be a miracle that he was still standing, and still staring back at him with such determination.

"Drink some of that, immediately," Snape said calmly, nodding to the small red bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion clutched tightly in the boy's hand. "You look a sorry state, Potter. Go upstairs. The first door on the right is a washroom, and the door following it is the guest bedroom. You may wash up and rest, but in the morning, I expect to hear everything, and I mean _everything_, is that clear?"

A wave of relief washed over Harry. Snape was allowing him to clean himself up and rest in his home, but at the cost of having to divulge everything that had happened, and why. There would be no hiding anything from him, he knew; and even if he didn't want to talk, Snape would most likely hold him down and perform Legilimency anyway. Still, Harry sighed in relief. Having to explain everything to Snape was a small price to pay for Sarah's welfare as well as his own, and a place to remain safe and recover.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said sincerely, "Good night."

Snape nodded almost imperceptibly to Harry, and then turned his attention back to the unconscious girl lying on the sofa. Harry took this as a cue that he was being permitted to leave, and he immediately moved around the coffee table, making his way back toward the hidden staircase.

As he ascended the stairs again, he carefully un-stoppered the small bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion and took a small swig of it. It didn't taste nearly as badly as he had expected it to. In fact, it tasted quite similar to blood, rich and metallic. It burned slightly on the way down, but after only a few moments, Harry felt vitality slowly returning to him and replacing the weakness and fatigue that came along with blood loss. Raising his eyebrows in appreciation at the potion's effect, he stoppered it again as he reached the top of the stairs, turning down the hallway and coming to the first door on his right.

With his free hand, he opened the door and stepped inside. In the darkness, he could dimly see the outline of the sink, and he carefully placed the bottle on its ledge before drawing his wand. A quick flick of it caused the lamps on the walls to illuminate themselves. When he had closed the door, he kicked off his shoes and proceeded to undress. While taking off his robes, something thin and papery fluttered out of his pocket, coming to rest on the bathroom's tiled floor. As soon as he was completely undressed, he stooped to grab it up. Unfolding it, he looked it over again with a heavy sigh. There, in bright red ink, were written the words,

_Sarah Garrend 12 Archer Crescent, Spelthorne, Surrey_

He refolded it gently and moved to the sink, where he utilized the small bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion as a paperweight, setting the piece of parchment underneath it. After carefully placing his damaged glasses on the side of the sink as well, he approached the tub and flung back the shower curtain. He started the shower's flow of water on a very hot temperature, and stepped inside while drawing the shower curtain closed. He stood with his face tilted upward into the shower's soothing spray. Snape had done an excellent job of tending his more serious wounds, but his many bruises still remained, several of which were on his face; a result of his vicious fistfight with the werewolf. They throbbed painfully as the hot water washed over them.

As Harry labored to clean all the dried blood from his body, his mind was far from his injuries. The words written on the piece of parchment that they had stolen from the Ministry's vault inside Gringotts swam in his vision, taunting him. What could it all mean? Enough had already been made clear: someone at the Ministry had known about her; her name had been hidden away with great secrecy; there was no mistaking that the Muggle family in Surrey was indeed her own family, somehow. So much continued to remain a mystery, however. How could this be possible? Sarah seemed to be under the impression that her parents had died when she was very young; that was what she had been told, and she had been too young to have any memory of them; and Sarah was most definitely from America, not from Surrey... How had this happened?

Harry sighed again, breathing in the warm, steam-filled air. Nothing added up. He knew that somehow, somewhere along the line, something had gone incredibly wrong for reasons unknown. He had hoped that their foray into the Ministry's vault would settle all of their questions. Instead, it had only raised a thousand more.

Then, Harry realized, there was the not-so-small matter of their battle. Someone had somehow known where they were going to be. Perhaps someone had been waiting there, watching the location, waiting for their arrival, but this made painfully obvious that there were more people who knew of the piece of parchment, and the words written on it. Closing his eyes, Harry pictured the scene again in his mind. The first figure to appear had insisted that they could tell Sarah what had happened, and why, if she would only listen to them; was this true? Or was this simply a lie constructed with the aim of getting Sarah to listen to them, making her vulnerable, or even perhaps to get her to leave with them? At the moment, there was no telling.

Then there was the werewolf. Fenrir Greyback was alive, and this caused a heavy, sickening feeling of dread to settle in the pit of Harry's stomach. If Greyback was alive and unaccounted for when he had been thought to be dead, had other Death Eaters, thought to be taken care of once and for all at the Battle of Hogwarts, survived in secret as well? Were there still Death Eaters out there, just as before, maliciously plotting against Harry and his loved ones? Perhaps there had been some major oversights in accounting for all the casualties in the aftermath of the battle.

Harry cranked the faucet knobs, stopping the flow of water. When he stepped out of the shower, he found fresh towels neatly folded on a rack beside it. As he dried himself off, the reality of what he was doing struck him again. He was in Severus Snape's home, taking a shower, and about to go to bed in the guest bedroom. It all seemed surreal.

When he was dry, he carefully hung the towel, and turned to the problem of bloodied and torn robes. Of course he could ask Snape for another pair, but walking about in Snape's home, dressed in Snape's robes, would be entirely too strange. He took his wand from the sink.

"_Tergeo,_" he spoke, cleaning off some of the blood. It took several more applications of the charm to clean the robes completely. When that was finished, he patched them up as best as he could. Unfortunately, he did not know many good spells to deal with mending clothing. He would have to make it a point to ask Mrs. Weasley about this over Christmas.

He was able to repair his broken glasses with an easy flick of his wand, using the charm that Hermione had taught him so very long ago. He then donned his robes again, and with his best efforts, he supposed that they felt as much like a fresh set of robes as he could get them to. After putting out the lights, with the small bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion and scrap of parchment in hand, he left the washroom. When he opened the door on his immediate right, he flicked his wand again, causing the lamps inside to illuminate themselves.

The guest bedroom was a respectable size, but modestly furnished. There was no more than a large bed with a small nightstand, a chest of drawers, and a bare desk. Harry did not have to guess why there was such minimal furnishing; few guests had probably ever stayed in the Snape home. Still, at least it was here, and Harry had no complaints about its lack of luxury. Closing the door behind him, he immediately plunged into the bed, and set his belongings on the nightstand beside it. With a flick of his wand, the lights were extinguished.

Despite his exhaustion, it took Harry quite a while to fall asleep. After the evening's events, he could not escape the new sense of dread.

There was no denying it; the great peace that had followed the war had been shattered for him.

* * *

Snape watched Sarah diligently throughout the night, barely leaving her side. When Harry had retired, he had carefully carried the girl up to his own quarters and placed her within his own bed. He then dragged one of his chairs to its side. There he sat patiently, watching the girl. He had dimmed his bedroom lamps so that the room was extremely dark, but still just bright enough to see. This way, he would be able to observe her, and she would be able to rest properly. He had also taken away her torn robes, carefully dressing her in a pair of his own. She looked somewhat silly dressed in his clothing as it was much too large for her, but it was better than having her remain in her own ragged and bloody attire. After re-dressing her, he had also taken care to wrap her right wrist with bandages in order to conceal the strange marking. If she were to see it immediately, it might cause her undue stress.

The girl was breathing steadily on her own. Through the night, as Snape watched her, she gradually shifted from looking as if she were unconscious to simply looking as if she were sleeping. With the potions he had given her, she had regained much of her color. She appeared perfectly fine. Still, Snape could not stop himself from checking her pulse and breathing every so often just to be sure.

It was about two hours after midnight when the girl began stirring faintly. Snape's heart skipped a beat, and he sat straight up in his chair, watching her eagerly. In truth, he ached to speak with her, but he would remain silent; there was no telling if she were actually awake, and she no doubt needed her rest.

Sarah groaned softly, shifting on the bed, slowly emerging from the hazy realm of sleep. She was sore all over. Her head throbbed. She had some idea why. The last thing she recalled was being struck by curses that had sliced her open deeply in many places. The pain had been excruciating, and it overcame her.. or so she thought. She would not find out until later what had really happened, and what she had done to her attackers.

When she recalled the terrible wounds that she had received, she gasped slightly. Her right arm immediately shot over to her left, grabbing her forearm and searching for one of the wounds. Instead of a deep cut, she found a soft sleeve. Groping her arm over, she could not feel anything. There was no pain, and no blood. Where had her wounds gone? All she could feel was a bandage wrapped around her right wrist, but there was no pain underneath it. She also seemed to be beneath a blanket. There was a pillow underneath her head. The last thing she had known, she and Harry were fiercely dueling the mysterious figures that had somehow tracked them down. How had she gotten here, wherever she was?

When she took a deep breath, her pulse quickened. She was assaulted with a very familiar scent, all around her. Could it be...?

"Where am I?" she whimpered aloud, thinking herself alone. With effort she opened her eyelids slightly. The room was extremely dark, however, and she could glean little from her surroundings.

"Safe," a familiar deep, smooth voice answered, "In my home."

"Severus?" she said, her voice only a whisper. She let her head fall to the side. There, in the room's dim light, she could see his dark outline seated next to her in a high-backed armchair.

"Yes," he replied simply, watching as her eyes scanned his form in the dark.

"Severus," she persisted, her voice very faint. Her right arm, trembling in weakness, stretched out for him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for everything. Without you, I-"

"Shh," he shushed her softly, reaching toward the girl and brushing her hand gently with his own. "Do not worry about that now. You need to rest."

"Harry!" she rasped, and began attempting to sit up. As soon as she made a major movement, her entire body was racked with intense pain, and she found herself lying on her back once more, unable to move. "Harry, where's Harry? Is he alright?" she pleaded, letting her head fall to the side again in order to look at Snape.

"Pott-," after a fraction of a second, he corrected himself with conscious effort, "Harry is currently resting in the guest bedroom. I tended to his wounds as well as yours. Do not worry. You need to rest," he reiterated. He had given the girl quite a few potions of a medical nature, and they would work most effectively if she remained relatively sedentary for the next several hours in a resting state. Upon learning that her friend was fine, the girl seemed to relax visibly, letting her hand rest in his.

"They knew about me," she whispered after a few moments, "Someone knew, they-"

"Shh," Snape insisted again, gently placing a finger on her lips to quiet her. "We shall speak when you have rested. Please, you must rest. Rest for me. You were very badly injured."

"Okay," she whispered.

Several moments of peaceful silence passed before either spoke again, content to remain still, holding hands.

"Severus, I-," Sarah whispered at last, but hesitated, fearful of his possible response. She knew there could be no delaying it any longer. She had to say it. "Severus, I love you."

Snape's eyes widened as he looked down at the girl. Warmth was stirring within his chest. All of his anger was forgotten. How could he remain angry with her now? Somehow, tonight, he had very nearly lost another love, a blow so harsh that he was unsure of his ability to recover from it again, let alone the fact that he had never fully recovered from the first. He might have been furious with her when he threw her out of his office, but he would not lie to himself; every moment spent apart from her, watching the girl suffer in her depression and inability to fix matters between them, had been excruciating. He knew he had to stop being a stubborn fool sooner or later.

"I-," he began at last, his voice almost as quiet as the girl's, "I love you... too," came the unfamiliar words.

When he spoke them, he could tell that a bright smile spread across the girl's face. After a few more moments, her hand had gone slack in his own. She had drifted off to sleep again. He gently tucked her arm back underneath the blanket and settled back in his chair. The girl would be fine now, he was sure, but that would not stop him from watching over her until she awoke again, fully rested. The few words that she uttered before he had quieted her made him even more eager to speak with the boy. Unfortunately, Potter also had sustained a respectable amount of injury, and Snape would respect that.

Patience, ever one of his virtues, saw him through to waiting until the boy would wake up on his own.

* * *

Harry didn't have the faintest clue how long he might have slept when he finally found himself awake. Light was streaming in through the curtained window, a clear sign that it was at least past daybreak by now. Sitting up, he groaned slightly. His bruises were still paining him; he would have to ask Snape for some kind of pain-relieving draught. It was not only pain that hit him, but hunger. His stomach felt empty, and almost ached. He must have worked up quite an appetite during their battle, followed by the strenuous effort of hauling Sarah to safety afterward. When he rose from bed and left the room, there was only food on his mind. He gave no thought to the person who was awaiting him downstairs.

When Harry made his way back down the hidden staircase into the sitting room, he stopped in his tracks. Snape was currently standing only a few yards away from him, with a brand new copy of _The Daily Prophet_ in his hands. As soon as he became aware of the boy's presence, his eyes crept up over the edge of the paper. Snape looked none-too-pleased to see him. Harry tried to look as innocent as possible, but he knew that there was going to be no getting around him.

Wordlessly, Snape tossed the paper into Harry's arms. He didn't need to guess why. Unfolding the paper, his eyes fell upon the front page. There was a large photograph of several Gringotts personell, mostly goblins, in front of the bank's doors. Crowds of people were swelling before them in panic and curiosity, and the goblins were attempting to keep them at bay. One of them stood above the rest, up several steps, shouting something to the crowds. Above chaotically moving photograph, read the large headline,

_**BREAK-IN AT GRINGOTTS**_

Harry skimmed the article underneath.

_Sources are reporting this morning that last night, shortly prior to the bank's closing hours, Gringotts fell victim to another break-in. The small amount of information released thus far indicates vault number four-hundred-and-eight was the target vault of the thievery, a vault belonging to the Ministry of Magic. There is no official word yet, however, on what may have been stolen. Three Ministry security personnel were present at the vault, two of whom suffered moderate injury at the hands of the thieves. The Ministry security personnel present at the vault report seeing two suspects, whose identities were obscured by means of hoods. No further specifics as to their possible identities are available at this time._

_The bank's governor has issued the following statement:_

_"It appears that this robbery could only have been perpetrated by those with an intricate and detailed knowledge of the bank's inner workings in order to reach the vault in question without the escort of a Gringotts goblin. At the time of the incident, however, all of our employees within the bank were accounted for. Rest assured that we are investigating this matter to the fullest extent possible, and that the security of our bank is as tight as ever."_

Harry stopped reading here, his green eyes shifting upward to meet Snape's. He did not even bother looking at the troubling article underneath, involving Pius Thickness' new call for an end to the current Ministry regime for its inexcusable lapses in security in the wake of the new break-in. Harry smirked at Snape in a guilty sort of way, but said nothing. He knew what was coming.

"I suppose I do not need to ask," Snape spoke, his tone wry. His arms were folded across his chest while he glared at Harry.

"I'll explain," Harry ceded, knowing full well that he had no choice. "But please, sir, I'm starving. Could I possibly-,"

Snape tilted his head sharply in the direction of the kitchen. Once Harry had followed him there, it took him only seconds to fix the boy a simple meal of toast and milk. Despite its simplicity, Harry sat down at the table and devoured it as if it were a feast, savoring every bread crumb, and drinking deeply of the milk. Once his stomach had been somewhat satisfied, he gave a grateful sigh. He looked up at Snape, who was leaning against the kitchen cabinets, arms crossed, with a mildly impatient expression on his face.

"Well, sir, I suppose I should first tell you that-," Harry began, but was promptly cut off.

"I am already fully aware that you and Sar- Miss Garrend are responsible from stealing a small amount of Polyjuice Potion from my personal stores, which was then utilized to breach Ministry security," Snape rattled off, his tone harsh.

Harry turned red; Sarah hadn't told him anything about Snape knowing all of _those_ particular details.

"What I do not know," Snape continued, registering the boy's air of shock, "Is _why_." He then looked at Harry expectantly, his glare intense.

Harry took a deep breath before attempting to explain.

"We were only trying to figure out more about Sarah, sir," Harry explained. "Nothing about her past added up. I'm not sure if you know anyth-,"

"I know _everything_," Snape drawled impatiently, his glare unwavering.

"Well," Harry continued, his fingers skimming the rim of his milk glass absently, "I'm sure you'll agree, then, that things sounded a little fishy."

Snape nodded once, slowly, in agreement.

"People were surely Obliviated to discreetly cover up her childhood incident of uncontrolled magic, when at the same time, she was never approached by anyone from the magical community to induct her when she was clearly known, by someone, to be a witch," he answered.

"Right," Harry replied, "So then, Hermione reckoned that if anyone had been Obliviated, there would have to be a record of it with the Ministry-,"

"So you broke into the Oblivater headquarters to find this alleged record," Snape surmised. "And what did you find?"

"Nothing, or so we thought," Harry answered with a sigh. "It looked like I had grabbed two completely unrelated files of a couple of Muggles in Surrey who had accidentally seen someone conjure a Patronus. We were devastated until we heard what the Ministry did in its wake."

Snape nodded again.

"They sent certain filings into Gringotts for extra security," he said.

"The very same filings that I had been looking in," Harry admitted. "When we heard, we knew that I mustn't have looked properly, that there must be more, something that they didn't want getting out."

"And so you foolishly decided to make the bank your next mark," Snape said, still glaring. He remained silent while he waited for Harry to continue, but his anger toward him for bringing Sarah into such dangerous situations was palpable.

"We did," Harry continued, "We went in when Sarah felt ready to," he said, glossing over the details of how they were able to gain entry to the bank's vault complex and find their way to their desired location. "It was rough, but we got out with what we were looking for... at least we thought we did." It was still difficult for him to find words. The gravity of what had transpired last night was difficult to describe.

"How do you mean?" Snape asked, eager for the boy to reach the part of his story which involved a vicious confrontation with the apparently still-alive Fenrir Greyback.

Harry reached into his pocket, withdrawing the strip of parchment that they had stolen. He placed it on the table, sliding it across the surface in Snape's direction. Snape, looking impatiently skeptical, straightened himself up and reached out, grabbing the scrap of parchment from the table and unfolding it with a flick of his wrist. When he read the words written upon it, his brows furrowed.

"What is this supposed to mean?" he asked aloud.

"I didn't see it until we got there," Harry pressed on. "When we escaped the bank, we were both fine, only a little scratched. We made it back to Hogwarts, thinking it was best to hide in the Room of Requirement where no one would find us. When we got there, though, Sarah must have taken a look at what we had stolen. She must have known what it meant. Something inside her snapped... she wouldn't even respond to me. She just stormed right back out of the castle, off the castle grounds, and Disapparated. I was only able to go with her because I tackled her mid-turn."

Snape's expression was one of confusion.

"You see, sir," Harry continued slowly, as he knew it would need time to sink in. "The address on that slip of parchment... is the same address we found on the files we stole from the Ministry."

Snape's mouth dropped open slightly in astonishment.

"Then... then that must mean...," he stumbled over his own words in disbelief.

"She took us there," Harry continued, "I found her standing in the front window of the home. I looked inside, too. They all looked like her..." his voice cracked a little, and he swallowed a large lump that had formed in his throat.

Snape remained silent, watching Harry, with the strip of parchment still open in his hand. His expression had softened considerably. To Harry, in comparison to his usual expressions, he looked empathetic, and gentle. It was strange to see him that way.

"She knew what it meant, too," Harry said, his eyes now downcast at the nondescript tablecloth that he was leaning on. "She was furious. Her eyes, they... they glowed bright red. I was frightened for a moment when I saw them, but when she calmed down, she explained about them. Then she was just... well... defeated. She just sat there in the cold, staring... and then... _they_ showed up."

"_They_?"

Harry nodded once before speaking again.

"Somehow, someone knew where we were," he said. "It was almost like they were waiting for us to show up there. There were six of them in all. They were all wearing hoods, and I couldn't tell who any of them were. We managed to fight them off at first, but... Sarah, she... something happened to her."

"A little more than _something_, I would say, judging from the extent of her injuries," Snape argued, his tone, and expression, harsh once again.

"No, I mean..." How in the world was he supposed to explain what he had seen? "She completely discarded her wand after a minute or two. Even though she got injured, by the time I could finally help her, one of the wizards dueling her had already fallen, and I saw her finish off the other two with ease."

"Without a wand?" Snape asked, leaning forward.

"Yes," Harry affirmed. "She absolutely destroyed them, but she seemed out of control. She even sent me for a bit of a ride without knowing it. We were lucky that she didn't seriously damage most of the neighborhood in the process."

Snape now looked extremely troubled. He knew that the girl had previous difficulty with fully controlling her magic, but she had seemed to improve in the months since. What the boy was telling him, however, was of a proportion he could not imagine. What could have caused this? Why now, after months of practicing how properly use magic like wizards and witches who had been doing it since childhood?

"After that," Harry continued after Snape remained silent, immersed in his own thoughts, "I thought we were finished and finally safe, but I was wrong. One of them got up and tackled her. It was Greyback." Harry's eyes met Snape's once again, to convey his sincerity. Since he was being forced to explain every detail to the man, he wouldn't have Snape doubting a single part of his story. "He took her down, but he lost his hood on the way. When I saw who it was, I must have panicked. I didn't have time to do anything but tackle him off of her before he would have caused her more injury."

Snape nodded again, his expression now neutral in a slight attempt to convey his admiration for the boy's decision on this action. It took more than a little bravery to physically take on a werewolf like Fenrir Greyback instead of pointing a wand and slinging spells from a safe distance.

"He was demented," Harry went on. "He almost looks like he's transformed now, even when he's not. He was so fast and so strong. We're lucky we got off as easy as we did from him."

"Did you kill him?" Snape demanded.

"I don't think so," Harry replied. "There was no time. I think I only knocked him out."

"And the others?" Snape demanded again, "Who were they?"

Harry shook his head negatively.

"I didn't have time to find that out either, sir," he explained patiently, for reasons that he was sure that Snape would understand. "I knew Sarah had been badly hurt. It was a choice between taking extra time to find out who they were, or getting her to you for help immediately. I think you know which I chose to do. I couldn't very well take her to St. Mungo's or Hogwarts without having to explain what happened, and that would have only gotten her in even more trouble, so I brought her here."

"I understand," Snape replied honestly. He couldn't very well argue against the boy's rationale for not deciding to reveal the identities of their attackers when Sarah's welfare was at stake.

Even though he knew Sarah was fine, he was now extremely troubled by everything Harry had told him. It was quite obvious that the mystery behind Sarah's circumstances extended far deeper than any of them had ever imagined, and it had yet to be solved. If anything, it had only gotten exponentially worse. Someone, somewhere, was plotting, for reasons unknown. New mysteries had now surfaced; who had these attackers been? What could they possibly have to gain by interfering with the girl's life? What was the origin of the scrap of parchment on which the information had been written? What could possibly be the reason behind all of this, and furthermore, what was the nature of the strange marking that had appeared upon Sarah's wrist after last night?

In the silence, both Snape and Harry sighed simultaneously, apparently sharing the same train of thought. Snape looked at the boy again, struggling within himself. He had been about to thank Harry for rescuing Sarah, despite the danger he had put her in, when someone appeared at the kitchen door.

There stood Sarah, still pale, and looking unsteady on her feet.

"Sarah," Snape said softly without thinking, rushing forward to her and supporting her with his body. It almost looked as if they were embracing, and Harry looked away.

"Severus," Sarah whispered, her voice still weak. "Harry, I'm so glad you're alright. I'm so sorry," she said, pushing in the direction of the table at which Harry sat. Snape allowed her to approach the table, still supporting her carefully.

"No, Sarah," Harry said, rising from his seat. He looked upon Sarah with warmth and sincerity, still unable to properly express his deep pain for her at what they had discovered last night. "_I'm_ sorry. I never meant for all of that to happen to us. You might have been killed. Both of us could have been."

"Please, you must rest," Snape insisted, trying to turn Sarah back in the direction of the sitting room, where he could lead her back upstairs.

"But Harry," Sarah said, "What about the holiday? We're supposed to go to Ron and Ginny's later this week, and then-,"

Snape spoke up immediately, settling any possible trouble.

"You may stay here to recover until you are expected at the Weasley's," he said. "Both of you." Knowing that there were most likely mysterious people plotting about her, he did not want the girl to leave his sight while recovering, and he doubted that the boy would consent to leaving her behind, alone, in his custody.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said sincerely. Snape had never before been so civil to him. He _had_ put Sarah in terrible danger, but he had also saved her from that danger... mostly. Perhaps he was at least grateful for that, and this was his way of showing it.

Harry watched as Snape slowly led Sarah back upstairs. He had been eager for his own chance to speak with her about what had happened, but he knew that she needed to rest.

When they were out of sight, he leaned against the kitchen's door frame. With Sarah under his care, Harry was, for the first time, seeing the mysterious other side of Snape in person.


	24. Things Not Remembered

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 24: Things Not Remembered.

* * *

Late in the evening, Minerva McGonagall was pacing restlessly across the plush carpeting of her office. The holiday was nearing, and it was all she could do to keep those few unfortunate students who had remained at the school under control with all of their holiday cheer. She had been too busy over the past few days to pay much attention to the news. Yesterday's copy of _The Daily Prophet_, as well as today's, sat still-folded and untouched on the corner of her desk. She hadn't had time to so much as glance at the headlines.

This disappointed one of her office's occupants; the silver-bearded, blue eyed, serenely smiling man hanging in a portrait directly behind the Headmistress' desk. His piercing blue gaze followed Minerva as she paced back and forth across the room, just as he himself used to do so very often. One of the highlights of his framed existence was being privy to the goings-on in the world that he had departed. When Minerva would sit down to read the papers, his half-moon spectacles would slide even farther down his long, crooked nose as he discreetly examined the news over her shoulder. Due to the hectic business that accompanied the holiday season, however, he had been without news for the past couple of days. Despite his eagerness for the news, he did not press Minerva on the matter and risk trying her nerves. He knew himself, after all, how trying and troublesome being Headmaster of the school could sometimes be.

As if Albus' thoughts had somehow penetrated her mind, Minerva stopped mid-pace. Her arms were crossed behind her back, and her eyes came to rest on the folded copies of the _Prophet_ sitting on her desk. It was too late in the evening to begin reading both of them word-for-word. Perhaps there was a quicker way to catch up on the news. Walking again, she extended her pacing route over to a tall table which rested near one of the office's elegantly paned windows. Atop it sat her Wizarding Wireless. Turning one of the knobs gently, her office was filled with the sound of static and indiscernible chatter; one of the house-elves had probably brushed the dial inadvertently while dusting. Leaning close to the box, she tuned the dial carefully until she reached her desired station. She began pacing again as the deep, clear voice of a very professional-sounding wizard permeated the air.

"...and prices are expected to rise to almost twenty galleons per ounce after a record shortage in crop yields for the plant this fall. We now return to our top story once again today, the break-in at Gringotts bank."

McGonagall furrowed her brows as she paced, slowing down. _Another_ break-in at the bank?

Above her, Albus' eyes widened.

"We reported yesterday evening that two unidentified suspects broke into the notoriously secured bank. This marks the second break-in at the bank within the past year. The situation is being kept tightly under wraps, but the small amount of information available at this time points to a vault belonging to the Ministry of Magic having been broken into. This information, leaked into today's issue of _The Daily Prophet_ by an unknown source, is something that the Ministry is extremely displeased with. The Ministry has declined to make any further comments about the incident. It is unknown what may have been taken from the Ministry's vault, or whether or not this break-in is somehow connected to the recent breach of Ministry security several months ago."

McGonagall had stopped her pacing, now looking contemplative. There certainly was beginning to be a lot of scandal during what was supposed to be an unparalleled time of peace following Voldemort's downfall. The wizard on the radio spoke on above her thoughts.

"Shortly after the break-in, the entire building was evacuated of customers and put on lock-down by bank security. With the bank secured, bank officials are claiming at this hour that it is unlikely that the culprits may have even escaped the bank's inner complex, and may still be holed out and trapped somewhere inside. The bank's entire vault complex is currently being searched."

McGonagall chuckled lowly to herself. This was clearly a ploy by bank officials to dissuade people's fears about the bank's security. If the culprits had been skilled and knowledgeable enough to manage to locate and gain access to a single specific vault deep inside the bank, they had almost certainly managed to escape as well. There was no doubt in her mind that whoever had perpetrated this was still at large. After a few more moments, the newscast had moved off of the topic of the break-in and began the weather forecast. Minerva continued pacing again, her thoughts racing. It was becoming clear that there was some sort of design behind all of this; there had to be, with the break-in at the Ministry a few months ago, and followed up now by a break-in at the Ministry's vault within Gringotts. Something must be going on, she deduced, and it worried her.

She did not notice the silver-bearded man in the portrait above her looking unusually pale. His eyes had ceased following Minerva in her pacing, and instead were staring off in a single direction. _Surely it couldn't be,_ he thought to himself. He had convinced himself that he had jumped to conclusions when he had first seen the girl. Recently, however, the announcement of the girl's first name within Minerva's office had sent another jolt of fear through him; it had been on the day when she and Harry had come inside the office abruptly, asking for permission to visit Grimmauld Place, unaware that the girl had been the topic of the conversation that they had just interrupted. He had suppressed and dismissed his fears again after that event, content to instead ponder the girl's apparent attraction to Severus, as well as the great concern Severus seemed to have for the girl when he would discuss her with Minerva. Besides, maybe it had only been a coincidence.

But now there could be no dismissal. It was already clear that she had befriended Harry closely, and Harry was perhaps the only person with the courage, audacity, and personal, first-hand experience to pull off such feats as breaking into the Ministry and Gringotts. Could it be the two of them who were behind the events? Could it possibly be connected to...

"What is it, Albus?" Minerva suddenly spoke up, having stopped in her pacing to glance up at him. When she had seen him staring off into the distance, looking troubled, she had become concerned.

The piercing blue gaze shifted to rest on her again. He managed to smile. Inside his mind, he was fighting down the urge to ask her if she knew where Harry Potter and his friend were this evening.

"Oh, it's nothing, Minerva," he said kindly, "Just a little surprised at the news, that's all." He couldn't possibly bring himself to trouble her with it at the moment, especially if, somehow, he were still jumping to conclusions... but he doubted it.

McGonagall nodded. She then paced back to the Wizarding Wireless, turning a knob and shutting it off. With a flick of her wand, the lights extinguished themselves as well.

"Goodnight, Albus," she said, pacing off to her quarters.

"Goodnight," he told her. He sighed.

Instead of joining in the peaceful slumber of his neighbors all around the office, he continued staring off into the darkness, troubled.

* * *

Harry had been trying in earnest all afternoon long and into the evening to find some way of keeping himself occupied. It was a strange and awkward thing to be a guest in Snape's home, but it was made even worse by the fact that Sarah was still resting and recovering from her injuries. Harry desired nothing more at that moment than to speak with her, and to plead with her for forgiveness. It was too like himself to be shouldering all responsibility for what had transpired, but he could not possibly help it. If it had not been for his persistent urging, he thought, they would not have been put in the mortal danger that they had been in; they would not have broken countless laws of the Wizarding world; they would not have discovered the painful truth that Sarah did indeed have a living family. Harry wondered which was worse... having parents that were undeniably deceased, as in his case, or having very alive parents that apparently knew nothing of their child's existence.

Even though he wanted greatly to talk to Sarah, he didn't press the issue. He reckoned that staying as far out of Snape's way as possible would please him. He spent most of the day in the small sitting room, trying to amuse himself by looking through many of the old, dusty tomes which filled the room's bookcases. Hermione would be in paradise, he thought to himself, but time seemed to be crawling by for him, especially when his mind was preoccupied with Sarah's mental and physical welfare. Snape would pass through the sitting room every now and again on his way to and from the kitchen, no doubt to fetch food or water for Sarah, but Harry didn't bother him. Harry was sure that when Snape was ready to confront him about something, he would.

Late in the evening, Harry was standing in the corner of the room farthest away from the front door. He was reaching high up over his head, replacing a book that he had selected a little while ago at random. It had ended up being about the history of herbology, something that Harry considered less-than-ideal reading material. As he reached up, he winced a little; the claw marks on his right arm twinged in pain. The rest of him was feeling relatively alright after Snape's treatments, but he knew there was little that could be done for the werewolf wounds at the moment. When he lowered his arm again, he accidentally hit another book on a lower shelf with his elbow. He sent the book tumbling to the floor, where it opened, sending a flurry of what looked like pages scattering about the floor.

Harry sighed and knelt down to the book. It would be a pain to reorganize all of the scattered pages. When he got a closer look, however, he realized that they were not pages; they were photographs. Harry took a quick glance over his shoulder before he began collecting them. The book case which concealed the staircase to the upper level was open, but Snape was nowhere in sight, and Harry could not hear anything else aside from the faint ticking of the clock sitting upon the mantle piece, as well as the small fire crackling underneath in the fireplace. When he was sure that he was alone, Harry picked up the photographs one by one, examining them as he went.

He already knew bits and pieces about what a bad home situation the young Snape had from the memories that he had once inadvertently seen during his Occlumency lessons, as well as the memories that Snape had given him while he lay bleeding on the floor of the shrieking shack.

Still, what unfolded before his eyes in the photographs was a sad story. The first few photographs that Harry examined were portraits of the family. The woman Harry recognized as Eileen Prince stood on the left side of the picture, with long, stringy black hair and sallow skin, several heads shorter than her husband standing next to her. She looked wary of him, almost frightened, as she waved halfheartedly from the photograph. The man that must have been Tobias Snape stood next to her. He did not resemble Severus so much in appearance as he did in bearing, save for his nose. He stood there with his wife and child, looking dour and impatient as he posed for the photograph. He did not wave; his arms were crossed tightly across his chest, and his eyes were scanning the corners of the photograph, as if he could not wait to get out of it. In front of the couple was a young Severus, shorter than either of them, looking scraggly and unkempt. He did not wave either; instead, he seemed to be in a discreet struggle with his mother. It looked as if he was trying to inch away from his father, but Eileen was keeping him firmly in place at the center of the photograph, between his parents. Dissatisfied with this, Severus was wearing a sneer, and his eyes would dart to his father every so often.

Harry placed the photograph back inside the album, and picked up the next. To his surprise, none of the other photographs were Wizarding photographs. They were all stills, taken with Muggle cameras. Tobias, Harry assumed, with his apparent distaste for everything magical, must have disliked posing for the moving Wizarding photograph that Harry had just seen. Many of them were ripped, leaving only Severus or Eileen in the photograph; Tobias had apparently been torn away. Harry did not need the increased detail of Wizarding photographs to tell, that in every photograph, Eileen appeared distraught and unhappy, and Severus appeared troubled and angst-ridden. As Harry replaced the photographs back into the album, he took care to put them back in a less precarious manner than they must have been to fall out so easily when he had knocked the book down.

It was a curious thing, Harry realized; his own album, full of the only photographs of his parents that he possessed, was one of his most treasured possessions. Snape's on the other hand, was dusty, neglected, out-of-order, and jammed haphazardly into a seemingly random spot in one of the room's many book cases. Harry didn't have to imagine why. These memories, unlike Harry's, were something that Snape probably did not enjoy revisiting.

When the album was back in order, Harry stood up and placed it back in the spot on the shelf where it had come from. Just as he was sliding it back into its place, he was startled by a noise from behind him.

Snape had cleared his throat loudly as he watched Harry fumbling around the bookcase.

Harry's heart skipped a beat; this wouldn't be the first time that he had been caught going through Snape's memories without his permission. When the album was back in place, he turned about to see Snape, standing before the staircase, his arms crossed over his chest. Visions of Tobias briefly flashed through Harry's mind, but he pushed them away quickly. He didn't need Snape probing into his mind and finding out that he had been going through his family's photo album, as if he didn't already know. He had no clue how long Snape had been there watching him.

Snape's dark eyes scanned over Harry. He didn't need to use Legilimency to immediately notice that the boy had been up to something. His eyes then jumped to the bookcase, to the volume that the boy had just put back in place. His eyes narrowed slightly when he recognized it to be the photograph album.

Harry swallowed hard. The last thing he needed to do while staying in his home was to upset the man; Snape probably hated him enough already for obvious reasons, and now he probably hated him even more for putting Sarah in such danger.

Snape clenched his teeth as anger welled up inside him. The boy had been going through his old photographs, something that he never did himself. He didn't even know why he kept the damned thing in the first place. He should have just chucked it into the fireplace long ago and spared himself the use of some firewood.

_Patience, Severus,_ he told himself inside his mind, _If you hex him, the girl will be cross with you._

It was this thought that stayed his hand.

"Sir?" Harry asked at last, after several moments of tense silence had passed.

Snape blinked, coming back to reality.

"She wishes to see you, but-," Snape began.

Harry's heart leapt. He had been waiting all day to speak with her. He immediately rushed forward, headed straight for the open staircase. When he reached it, however, an arm shot out, stopping him in his tracks.

"_But,_" Snape continued, louder this time, stopping the boy in his apparently overwhelming excitement to see the girl, "First, it is time for another treatment for those werewolf wounds of yours."'

"Again?" Harry groaned, wincing as he recalled the intense stinging that the treatment produced.

"Unless you wish them to become permanent," Snape said impatiently, "I could just as easily-,"

Harry sighed.

"No, sir, I'm sorry," Harry supplied, moving over to the empty sofa. He plopped down on it. He watched as Snape produced the small jar of salve, as well as a swab, from inside his robes.

Harry rolled back the appropriate sleeve as Snape took a seat to his right on the sofa. As soon as the swab touched his wounds, Harry flinched, hissing as he drew a sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth. Snape smirked to himself as he dabbed the salve on the boy's wounds. Causing the boy pain didn't exactly give him pleasure, per se, but he wasn't complaining about having the opportunity. His smirk curled up into something more of a tiny smile as the boy continued to flinch, hiss, and wince as his wounds were treated.

Harry was certain that his activity involving the photo album was earning him an extra rough treatment.

"It could have been a lot worse," said Snape.

"Don't I know it," Harry said. "Could've been the full moon. _Then_ what would have happened to us."

"The two of you would be going through werewolf orientation at St. Mungo's this very moment," Snape drawled sardonically.

Despite himself, Harry could not stifle a small chuckle.

"That should do it for now," said Snape, capping the jar of salve and placing it back inside his robes.

Harry rolled his sleeve back down. He glanced to the staircase, and then to Snape.

"May I?" he asked.

"Go ahead," Snape said with a nod. "Last door on the left."

Having finally obtained the permission he so desperately wanted, Harry jumped up off of the couch and quickly scaled the staircase. He followed the dark, narrow hallway all the way down to the last door on the left that Snape had indicated. He found the door open, and light from within it was flooding into the hall, creating a stark border of light and dark upon the floor. He stepped into the light and slowly entered the room. When he stepped inside, he found Sarah, lying in the room's modestly-sized bed, propped up on a small mountain of pillows and covered in a thick blanket. He immediately noticed that she must have been dressed in robes belonging to Snape, and he could not help but smile at how absurd she looked.

"Hey," he said to her, slowly approaching the bed.

"Harry," she said, looking up at him. He was immensely relieved when she smiled back at him. He had been terrified that she would be furious about everything that he had put her through, and what they had discovered.

Reaching the bed, he found a comfortable-looking, tall-backed chair resting next to it. This must be where Snape sat while he watched over her. He pulled the chair a bit closer to the bed and sat down beside her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, unsure of what to say, and still afraid that she might be angry. She was still looking pale, but looked worlds better than she did when he had brought her here. At that point, she had looked close to death.

Sarah shrugged a little.

"I'm alright," she said, "But considering that I'm lucky to be alive, I really shouldn't be complaining. What about you?" she asked, trying to sit up further and lean closer to him in interest. Snape had told her that he had treated Harry's injuries, but he did not expound upon what injuries Harry had suffered, exactly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, nodding in assurance. "I got off easy compared to you, anyway."

"When I woke up here, I didn't know what had happened to you," Sarah said, her eyes meeting Harry's. Harry blinked in surprise to find them to be red, but steadied himself. "I was terrified that maybe you were..."

"Dead?" Harry asked, his voice jocular. "Not even Voldemort could finish _me_ off. It'll take more than a few wizards and their crazed werewolf to do the job," he said, giving a casually dismissive gesture with his hands.

"Werewolf?" Sarah asked, one of her eyebrows quirked quizically.

"Yeah," Harry said, "Of course, the bloke who tackled you and gave you those lovely scratches, remember?" Harry rolled up his right sleeve, showing off his own claw marks.

Sarah's eyes widened as she examined Harry's clawed arm. Her left hand moved to rest on her collarbone. Underneath the robes were the mysterious scratches that Snape had been somehow unable to heal as of yet, and instead continued treating them with a foul-smelling medicine which stung something awful.

"You mean," Sarah said slowly, having gone slightly more pale, "A... a _werewolf_ gave me these?" Severus had not yet informed her as to the nature of the stubborn, painful wounds which did not seem to be healing in a hurry.

Harry nodded vigorously.

"Well, technically," Harry explained, "He wasn't transformed at the time. Don't worry about it. Snape- Severus- said they would heal. You're not going to be a werewolf or anything of the sort."

"I-," Sarah began, looking contemplative, "I don't remember that."

"Well, you might not," Harry continued, "He sort of tackled you from the back. I don't think you saw him coming. After that I'm pretty sure you might have been out cold. It was right after you fought off a few of our attackers."

Sarah looked thoroughly confused.

"I- I what?" She stammered.

Harry now looked confused as well.

"I barely fought off anyone," Sarah said quietly, "The last thing I recall is being hit by some curse that cut up my arms while I was trying to fight them off. The next thing I knew, I woke up here. I didn't do much of anything to them. You must have."

"You mean to say," Harry began slowly, "That you... don't remember what you did?"

"What do you mean, _what I did?_" Sarah asked, sounding slightly defensive. "I might have gotten us both killed for how terrible I was. All I did was get hit by a curse and fall down like a useless idiot."

"No," Harry stated simply, shaking his head slowly at her. His voice sounded strange. "No you didn't."

"What are you talking about?" Sarah asked, leaning closer to him.

"I saw you hurt those people," Harry explained, looking her in the eyes again. "You fought them off like they were nothing. It was...," Harry paused for a moment, thinking of the right words to use, "Frightening. And you did it without a wand."

Sarah shook her head at Harry. That couldn't be possible; she didn't remember doing any of _that_. She definitely would remember something like fighting off a few thugs without a wand. The last thing she remembered was being hit by a painful curse, and falling to the ground.

"Are you... are you sure?" she whispered in disbelief.

Harry nodded slowly.

"Absolutely sure," he said firmly, his tone serious.

Sarah turned away from Harry, gazing down at the open palms of her hands. How had she done something like that? And furthermore, why wouldn't she remember it if she had? As far as she remembered, she had been rendered unconscious after only a few moments of fighting. It was true that she had inadvertently performed magic before, without a wand, when her life was imperiled by the Centaurs... but she definitely remembered _that_.

"And the mark," Harry said quietly, "Didn't you see?"

Unbeknownst to him, Snape was now standing outside the door, but out of sight, listening. When the boy mentioned the mark, he tensed; he hadn't shown it to the girl yet. He had been so preoccupied with tending to her injuries that he hadn't asked her much about what had happened, especially after what Harry had explained about her alleged family. He did not wish to upset her by asking too many questions, and she had enough on her mind already without having to become worried about the mysterious mark that had appeared on her wrist. What she was saying now, however, troubled him greatly. The boy had already explained to him what he had seen take place on that Muggle street. She had no recollection of the chaos she had wrought on the people who had been attacking her.

"Mark?" Sarah asked, turning back to Harry.

Harry reached out and gently took Sarah's right wrist in his hand. When he rolled back her sleeve, he found that her wrist was wrapped in bandages, concealing it.

"This doesn't hurt, does it?" he asked.

When Sarah shook her head in the negative, Harry carefully unwrapped the bandages concealing the mark. There, on the underside of her wrist, just as brilliantly red it had been last night, was the strange symbol, with eight different lines diverging from the center point, each of them tipped with an arrow. Sarah's mouth dropped open with disbelief.

"I didn't happen to stop into any tattoo parlors during the time that I can't remember anything from, did I?" She asked jokingly, her eyes on Harry.

Harry's lip curled up in a smile.

"No, you definitely didn't," he said, letting go of her wrist.

When he had let go, Sarah brought her wrist closer to her eyes, examining it more closely. With the thumb of her left hand, she rubbed it firmly, almost as if she were expecting it to rub off. As Harry watcher her, her expression darkened.

"Tell me," she said quietly, her eyes on the strange mark. "Tell me what I did."

"Well," Harry said, taking a deep breath, "I'm not sure what you did to one of them, at least... they were already lying on the ground by the time I looked over. The first one I saw, you sent them flying down the street, down a couple houses. They hit a car parked there and didn't move."

Sarah remained silent as she listened, still staring at the mark, and trying desperately to remember what she had done.

"The next one," Harry continued, "You sent them flying too, and it also looked like you had hit them with the Cruciatus Curse at the same time."

"Did I?" Sarah asked, her voice a whisper. "Did I use an Unforgivable Curse?" How could she possibly not remember that? She would never...

"I- I don't know," Harry stammered. He honestly _didn't_ know what she had done to those people. "I didn't hear you using any verbal spells. You just sort of... did it."

"Without a wand?" Sarah asked again for confirmation.

"Without a wand," Harry affirmed. "As soon as I looked over at you, it was lying in the street. I didn't see you use it at all except for when we first started fighting. Oh, that reminds me. Here," He said, reaching inside his robe pockets and searching. After a moment, he drew out her wand, placing it on the side table near the bed. "I'd forgotten I had it."

Sarah made a fist with her right hand; veins and tendons rippled underneath the skin onto which the strange mark was branded. She continued to stare at it.

"Thanks," she said absently as Harry placed her wand on the side table. "I'd pretty much forgotten about that too."

Several moments of silence passed. Sarah continued to stare at the mark on her wrist. Harry watched her, unsure of what to say. He had yet to broach the most sensitive topic which had become painfully apparent the previous night. During the silence, Snape continued to listen outside the door as well, anxious for more chatter between Potter and the girl.

Harry took a deep breath, his bright green eyes still intent on Sarah as she continued her unwavering stare at the mark on her wrist.

"Sarah," he said at last, "Do you... do you want to go back?"

Harry's inquiry tore Sarah's eyes away from her wrist. The red eyes met the green. Harry had to steady himself slightly again when he caught sight of them. He still found them unnerving.

"Go back?" Sarah asked, quirking a brow.

"You know," Harry continued, "Go back... to the house on Archer Crescent."

"Oh," Sarah replied. The tone of her voice became even more melancholy, and her eyes found their way back to the mark on her wrist. "Why bother," she stated simply, and then said no more.

"It's," Harry started, but he wasn't quite sure what to say, yet again. "It's your... your...,"

"Family?" Sarah spoke up again. Her eyes shot back to Harry's, and she now sounded loud and angry. "So what? That family on Archer Crescent might be related to me by blood, I won't deny that, but I'll be willing to bet you anything that they don't even know that I exist, and going back there isn't going to tell me exactly why that is."

Harry straightened up in his chair as she spoke. She sounded angry, and with those red eyes staring back at him, she somehow looked wild and dangerous. The changed eye color would definitely take some getting used to on his part. After another moment of silence, Sarah looked back to the mark on her arm, and Harry sighed.

"It might be a good place to start," Harry said quietly, recollecting his own journey of self-discovery, now almost exactly a year in the past, "Going back to Godric's Hollow-,"

"Almost got you killed," Sarah interrupted forcibly again, her bright red eyes darting back to Harry's green ones, "If I remember the story you told me correctly. I'm not going back to that house as long as there are probably people there waiting to ambush me for whatever reason."

Sarah turned away again, and Harry remained silent, prepared for more of her verbal onslaught. As far as he was concerned, he deserved it. It felt as if it were his fault, after all. But she did not speak again. Instead, after several more moments of silence, she glanced back at him. Her expression had softened considerably; the bright red eyes, which only a moment ago had looked wild and dangerous, now looked troubled and pained.

"I'm sorry," she said, sounding defeated. "I'm sorry, Harry. I just-,"

"It's alright," Harry said, leaning into the girl where she sat propped up on her pillows and giving her a gentle hug. He was deathly afraid of somehow aggravating her injuries, and he would have only Snape to answer to for that. "It's not your fault. It's mine."

Once Harry had drawn back from the hug to sit up in his high-backed chair, Sarah looked up at him again.

"No," she said firmly, shaking her head at him, "It's not your fault. And it's not mine, either. But it's definitely _someone's_ fault, and we just don't know whose."

When she said this, Harry looked into her eyes once again. She definitely looked calmer now, but there was still something that Harry could not quite put his finger on. It was as if the danger and wildness that she had displayed only moments before was now lurking quietly beneath the surface, gazing out at him. He thought to himself for a long moment before he opened his mouth to speak again.

"Are you... I mean," he took a deep breath, "Would you still be willing to try and find out whose fault it is?"

Sarah looked him over. There was another long pause. He looked so utterly sincere in his desire to bring her justice; to bring her an explanation of some kind. She was once again sure in her assertion that she had never before, in her entire life, met someone who was so willing to give of themselves for the sake of others, than Harry Potter was. It only took her another quick glance at the underside of her wrist to give her the answer that she sought.

"Yes," she replied, her voice strong. Her gaze became steely. She gave only a single nod, but it was so full of conviction that Harry could not help himself but smile.

Inside their minds, they had both reached the same conclusion simultaneously: they had both gone too far, and suffered far too much, to go back on their mission now. They _needed_ to find out the reasons behind everything. They _needed_ to find the explanations. Clearly there was something going on here, something much bigger than a simple clerical mistake at the Ministry, and they intended to find out what it was. The difficult part would be figuring out where to start again.

Harry extended his right hand to Sarah, and she extended hers in kind. For a moment, they shared a sort of handshake, full of camaraderie... that was until Sarah's eyes again fell upon the mark on her wrist, and she quickly recoiled her hand from Harry's, as if she were afraid that she might infect him with something.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, realizing what she had just done. "I didn't mean,-"

"It's alright," Harry assured her. He even went so far as to reach out and grasp her right wrist in his hand again, running his fingers over the strange mark without fear. "See? No harm done."

Sarah nodded silently, and breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, she had been concerned that somehow she would have been unable to use her right arm or hand ever again without inflicting some kind of terrible damage that she would not recall the next day. With her eyes once again on her wrist, she spoke. When she did, her eyes darted momentarily to a small spot just above and between Harry's eyes.

His scar.

This did not go unnoticed by Harry.

"What does it mean?" she asked, her eyes on her own mark.

Harry examined the mark as well, and answered her honestly.

"I'd be lying if I told you I had any idea what it could possibly mean," he said with a sigh. "I'm sorry."

Sarah nodded, but did not remain silent for long.

"Do you think that Severus might-," she began.

Snape was still standing just outside the door, his back pressed firmly up against the wall as he listened to the conversation inside the room. For a moment, he could not stop himself from realizing how strangely similar it was to him eavesdropping on an unwittingly prophecy-giving Sybill Trelawney inside the Hog's Head so many years ago. Pushing the thought out of his mind, he could no longer remain hidden when he heard the girl mention his name. He stepped out of the shadows and into the light flooding out of the door, making himself plainly visible to the room's occupants.

"No, I do not," he said gently, slowly making his way inside the room. "For the time being, at least."

When Snape entered the room, the pair of red eyes, as well as the green, were on him immediately. Sarah's eyes and expression lightened considerably to see him. Harry, on the other hand, was trying to remain looking as casual as possible. It was an old habit of his, and one that would not die easily. He could not help himself from wondering about just how long Snape had been listening outside the door, and what he had heard. Having him hear the details of Sarah's apparent lapse in memory about the events of the previous night did not concern him at all. In fact, he was eager to learn what could possibly have caused it, and he was thinking that perhaps Snape would know why. Their agreement to continue to investigate matters, however, was a different story. Snape would most certainly not approve of Harry leading Sarah into more possibly life-threatening situations in their quest to uncover whatever the truth might be.

"Until we find out exactly what it means," Snape continued, aware of the girl's pleasure at his arrival, as well as Potter's apparent worry and suspicion, "You would do well to keep the bandages on it in order to hide it from sight, unless you plan on going back to school and trying to convince everyone that you spontaneously visited a tattoo parlor over the winter holidays."

"Good idea," Sarah agreed, grabbing up the bandages which had concealed the mark before Harry had unwrapped them. She carefully wrapped them about her wrist again, hiding the mark from view.

"And her eyes?" Harry inquired, all too eager to have Sarah's eyes return to a normal-looking brown instead of a frightening shade of red. He was mostly used to it by now, but somehow it still made him feel slightly uneasy.

"Ah, yes," Snape agreed, stepping closer to the bed on which Sarah lay.

From inside his robes, Snape drew out his wand, directing it toward Sarah's eyes. While Harry watched, he thought comically of how few people would indeed feel comfortable and secure with Severus Snape pointing a wand square at their face. After a moment, Snape flicked his wrist in an attempt to reapply the glamour charm which had concealed Sarah's red eyes for the past few months. She had grown quite used to the application of the charm, and had even learned to apply it herself. It now caused her minimal discomfort, if any.

When Snape flicked his wrist however, Sarah winced immediately, her eyes shut tight.

"Agh," she groaned, making fists of her hands and bringing them to her eyes in order to rub them. "That didn't feel so good," she said. She recalled how, the very first time Snape had surreptitiously applied the charm to her eyes without her knowledge, it had burned and tingled slightly. Her eyes had burned again, even more intense than when the charm had first been applied.

When she opened her eyes again, they were still red. She blinked up at Snape, who was standing before the foot of the bed, aware that her eyes had not changed color as intended. At her side, Harry looked concerned, but she did not glance over at him.

"What?" she asked.

Before anyone replied, Snape flicked his wrist again, his wand waving slightly in the direction of the girl's eyes. Again, she winced tightly. This time, she bared her teeth and hissed in pain.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed. "What the hell is the problem?" she asked, growing impatient with the additional discomfort. She had enough pain to deal with already due to the deep werewolf scratches.

"I apologize," Snape said quickly, "The glamour charm. It seems to," he paused, searching for words, "Not want to stick."

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked, sounding frightened. She blinked at Snape again, and then turned to Harry. Harry's expression of concern did not do anything to reassure her.

"Your eyes are still red," Harry explained calmly.

"What?" Sarah spat with surprise, her gaze darting between Snape and Harry, hoping desperately that one of them was pulling her leg. The charm had never failed to work before. If it refused to work for whatever reason, walking around the Wizarding world with red eyes that could apparently not be concealed any longer would be a whole new challenge. She didn't doubt that her friends would still accept her, but it was everyone _else_ that she was worried about.

Snape and Harry continued to look back at her wordlessly. They wore matching expressions consisting of a mixture of confusion and concern.

"Oh great," Sarah groaned, cupping her face in her hands, and hiding her eyes in the process, "Hello, nice to meet you, my name is Sarah Garrend, I'm the freak with Voldemort-eyes."

Harry could not stifle a laugh.

"Not quite," he tried to reassure her. "Except for when they glow, so don't go doing any of _that_ again."

"It's not like I tried to," Sarah said, sitting up straight again. When she did, she winced at the pain in her collarbone. No doubt the claw marks left by Fenrir Greyback were giving her extreme discomfort.

This did not go unnoticed by Snape, who cleared his throat loudly. Both Harry and Sarah looked up at him again.

"If you do not mind, Pott-," he corrected himself with considerable conscious effort again, "Harry, I believe it is time to treat Sarah's wounds again, and I would like her to get some more rest."

Harry nodded obediently, rising from the high-backed chair which Snape had been occupying while he watched over the girl during her rest.

"You may speak again tomorrow," Snape went on, nodding once at the girl, "You should be well enough to get out of bed by then."

Harry moved toward the door, passing Snape as he made his way over to the chair by the side of the bed. Before leaving, Harry turned and bade both of them goodnight.

When Harry was gone, Snape took a seat in the chair beside the bed, and Sarah straightened up a little more against her pile of pillows.

"I hate this," she said, her hands moving to the buttons on the front of her overlarge, borrowed robes.

"I know," Snape replied, his voice gentle. He reached inside his robes again. He put his wand away, but also drew out the jar of salve and a fresh swab. "But it must be done unless you wish them to scar very badly, or not heal at all."

Sarah sighed resignedly, having opened her robes enough to reveal her collarbone. Snape leaned over her and began dabbing the foul-smelling salve onto her wounds. Despite the fact that he was being infinitely more gentle in treating her wounds as opposed to the boy's, she still flinched and winced in pain every time the swab touched her. Dipping the swab in the salve again, he set the jar down on the side table, freeing his left hand. As his right hand worked on her wounds, he softly caressed the side of her face with his left in order to soothe her. Perhaps it would help to take her mind off of the pain.

His own mind, he realized, was still extremely troubled about what he had overheard from the hallway. As he looked down into the girl's face, she appeared to be greatly troubled as well; her red eyes were unfocused and staring blankly as she attempted to ignore the stinging pain of the salve.

"You really don't remember," Snape said softly, "Do you." His black eyes were on her, and full of concern. Concern not only for what had happened to her, but for the fact that he had just admitted to eavesdropping on a significant portion of her conversation with the boy.

"I don't," Sarah affirmed. When she replied, her eyes came into focus again, meeting his gaze. She did not appear upset by his obvious admittance of eavesdropping. "I don't remember any of it. Why wouldn't I remember doing those things?"

"I am afraid I do not know," Snape replied truthfully, still gently dabbing her wounds. His eyes turned away from the girl's gaze to monitor his work. "I wish that I did."

The girl remained silent. When he had finished treating her wounds, he set the swab aside. Looking into her eyes, he could still plainly see how bothered she was by it. He leaned over her again, caressing the side of her face with the back of his right hand.

"Do not let it trouble you," he told her, "Stranger things have happened."

Instead of replying, the girl sat up a bit more, bringing herself closer to him and capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Snape's eyes opened wide for a moment in surprise, but quickly closed in contentment as he leaned down further, returning the girl's kiss tenfold and pressing her back down into her pillows. Before he knew it, they were kissing passionately; the first kiss that they had shared since he had thrown her out of his office on that painful day. Ever since then, he had ached to touch her again with every fiber of his being. All of his pent-up passion was made apparent in their kiss. Her left hand had found its way into his hair, bringing him even closer. He could not possibly kiss her deeply enough. Without thinking, he had brought himself off of the chair and was now lying on top of her. The room was quickly filled with the sounds of their heated breathing and quiet moans.

In their impassioned moment, however, Snape had pushed on the girl too firmly with his own body in his ardor. She tensed instantly, and the left hand which had found its way into his hair went stiff. When Snape drew back from their kiss, she gave a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes were shut tight in a wince. Snape rolled off of her immediately, sitting up beside her on the bed. He was panting as he looked the girl over, but it did not take long to find the obvious source of her discomfort; her wounds were still exposed on her left collarbone. He must have brushed against them or put too much pressure on the area during the heat of the moment. When the girl's pain subsided, she was panting as well. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading.

"Are you alright?" Snape asked her once he had regained enough of his breath to speak.

The girl nodded quickly a few times. Her face was prettily flushed. She reached out for him again, trying to bring him back to her.

"No," Snape breathed quickly, still panting a little, "Not yet." When her hand reached him, he took it, enclosing it in both of his own.

"Why not?" Sarah complained, still trying to catch her own breath.

The corner of Snape's lip curled up slightly. The girl had just suffered a nearly paralyzing amount of pain because of their passion, but still wanted to keep going.

"You know full well why not, you silly girl," he breathed, still holding her hand tightly in his own, "You have quite clearly suffered enough injury already, and I will not play any part in putting your body in any more... undue stress... that might contribute to your pain."

Sarah gave a heaving, overly dramatic sigh.

"Also," Snape went on, his eyes flicking over to the door, "The door is open, and if your friend were to walk by, I don't think any amount of Obliviation spells would be able to cure him of the trauma."

Sarah could not help but laugh, and when she did, Snape's lip curled up a bit more. Making the girl smile and laugh filled that strange place deep inside his chest with warmth.

"When, then?" Sarah asked. As badly as he had wanted her, she too wanted him just as much. Without his presence, she had suffered a deprivation beyond measure, in so many ways.

"Soon," Snape promised, eyeing the wounds on her collarbone again, "When they do not pain you so much anymore, and when your entire body is feeling well."

"Alright," Sarah sighed, sounding disappointed but not unhappy.

"You need to rest more now, after all," Snape said, leaving the bed and walking toward the door, "Let me get something to assist you in sleeping."

Snape was gone for only a moment before he returned, holding a small bottle of Sleeping Draught. He approached the bed, handing it to the girl.

"Just a sip should do it," he explained, watching as he waited for the girl to drink.

Sarah unsealed the bottle and took a quick swig of it before resealing it and handing it back to him.

"Stay with me," she said as their hands met over the bottle of Sleeping Draught.

Snape, who hadn't been planning on leaving in the first place, took the small bottle from her and set it aside next to the jar of salve.

"Very well," he said, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed.

"No, not there," the girl protested, "Here," she said, patting the empty portion of bed next to her.

Snape nodded once, rising from the chair and making his way around to the other side of the bed. As he went, he drew his wand out of his robes. Flicking it about the room, he extinguished the lights. Reaching the other side of the bed, he tucked his wand back into his robes. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he kicked his shoes off unceremoniously. Then, he lay himself down gently beside the girl. When he was still, he could already tell from her breathing that the Sleeping Draught was setting in. Still, he heard her give a contented sigh when she felt him on the bed next to her. Snape gave a contented sigh of his own, lying there in the darkness, listening to the girl breathing lightly as she drifted off to sleep.


	25. A Promise

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 25: A Promise.

"Idiots!" an angered voice roared. There was a loud _crack_, a flash of light, and someone yelped loudly in pain.

"Ouch, damn it!" a gruff voice answered, the apparent recipient of whomever's rage was flaring uncontrollably. "What the bloody hell was that for? You were there too, you bleedin' idiot, hit yourself with that hex next time!" Fenrir Greyback growled lowly and menacingly, baring his fangs. The other conscious occupant of the small, darkened room, seated in a chair against the wall and still covered head to toe in hood and cloak, seemed indifferent the demented werewolf's ferocious display. The man who had fired the hex blindly out of frustration seemed not to care much either.

"Wrong, all wrong! It all went wrong!" shouted the first figure angrily, pacing about the small room. The lighting was extremely dim. By the small amount of light, it was plainly visible that indeed only three of the room's occupants were on their feet in seemingly decent health. The other three were lying in makeshift cots that had been crammed closely together, and were badly injured, their wounds having been tended to haphazardly by whomever else was in the small room with them.

Ignoring the pacing figure's fury, the demented werewolf, supporting himself on the knuckles of his right hand as well as his now slightly-misshapen hind feet, hovered over one of the figures lying in a cot, looking them over with more than a small amount of interest. His breath, as always, came in snarling rasps.

"Think they're going to be alright?" the werewolf spoke, eyeing the wounds of the unconscious figures. Despite the fact that they were supposed to be his comrades, the tantalizingly close smell of fresh human blood had piqued his feral interest. Clenching his sharp teeth together tightly, he barely managed to suppress the thought.

"How should I know," the first figure, still pacing, spat back. "I don't know what the hell that Mudblood did to them. She should barely be able to hold a wand, let alone this," he said, gesturing wildly to the three injured, unconscious figures laid out in the cots. "And it's not as if we can take them to St. Mungo's," the figure added with a contemptuous snort.

"How do you know it wasn't Potter who done it?" the werewolf rasped, leaning over farther to sniff closely at one of the injured man's bloodied bandages. The memory of the boy besting him in combat, so close at hand, caused him to growl lowly again. He had received quite a beating from the boy. If it weren't for his heightened fortitude that his condition blessed him with, he would surely be lying injured and unconscious in one of the cots as well.

"How _could_ it have been Potter?" the pacing figure spat, brandishing his wand blindly into the room once again. Even though no hex came this time, the werewolf still lowered his head defensively like a frightened animal, snarling. "Potter would never inflict this kind of damage on anyone! You said it yourself, Greyback. After everything was said and done, the girl was still standing, despite having taken numerous powerful curses, head-on!"

The werewolf lifted his strange yellow eyes from the bloodied bandages, turning them to the pacing figure, unnerved by his apparent unpreparedness for the situation which had unfolded on Archer Crescent. Sure, they had known that _Potter_ was most likely going to be there, and they knew what _Potter_ could do, especially after his performance in bringing down the Dark Lord; but how were they supposed to have known that the _girl_ would turn into their main problem?

"What the hell is she, anyway," the werewolf commented, his eyes now fixed on the pacing figure. The tone of his voice was suspicious and impatient. The yellow eyes narrowed.

The pacing figure's head snapped back in the direction of the werewolf.

"That is not for you to know," the figure supplied quickly, "All _you_ need to be concerned about is the fact that _you_ wish to come out of hiding again, all of you. And in order to do that, you need to do exactly as I say, no questions asked." His voice was very nearly shaking. Only he, and one other man in the room, who was currently lying unconscious on one of the makeshift cots, knew the true details of their design. The plan had been to keep Potter occupied for long enough to set the girl continuing along on the right track, and bringing Potter along with her for the ride... but they had been unable to mutter so much as a word to the girl after their initial confrontation. Once Potter and the girl had broken their ranks, and the girl had been cursed, it was over. Shortly after that, she had quite literally torn half of them apart single-handedly, with frightening skill. Everything had gone wrong.

The werewolf bared his teeth slightly at the clear dismissal, though he was accustomed to not being privy to plans like this. His job, he knew, was to get the higher-ups what they wanted, and in return, he would be rewarded. He continued to watch the other figure pace back and forth.

"_You_ disobeyed my orders already, Greyback," the pacing figure added, pointing an accusatory figure at the hunched over beast.

Greyback did not speak yet. He only glared back at the pacing figure, waiting.

"All of you did," the figure continued, motioning again to the injured figures lying in cots. "You were only supposed to use as much force as necessary, perhaps rough her up a bit, and the boy, too, but not try to _kill_ her."

"Maybe you would have been able to enforce your orders a little better if Potter hadn't taken you out in about five seconds," the werewolf retorted, glaring.

"He took you out too, imbecile," the pacing figure shot back.

"Yes, but unlike _you_, I got back up to keep fighting, didn't I?" the werewolf spat, "Besides, what would _you_ have done? She went berserk, _someone_ had to stop her before she killed us all. You should be _thanking_ me."

"You might have killed her," the pacing figure asserted again.

The werewolf growled again, apparently having had enough of the pacing figure's reprimands.

"Hey, I told you, she was still alive when I tackled her, didn't I?" he snarled. "So what the bloody hell are you on about? She sure got roughed up, just like you wanted."

"I wouldn't say we were the ones who did the most roughing up," the pacing figure said, eyeing the unconscious figures. "If she is dead, the plan is dead. And worst of all," the figure continued, his voice rising in anger, "You were seen! By Potter!"

The werewolf did not retort this time, or attempt to offer up an excuse. Even _he_ knew how terrible of a mistake it had been for him to be seen.

"He'll likely trigger a search, a full-scale investigation!" the pacing figure shouted, "Looking for _more_ people that are supposed to be dead, or missing people who are supposed to be in Azkaban! Do you have any idea what it would do to me, if I were discovered to be linked to any of you? Do you know what they would do to me? I'd end up in Azkaban, right along with you!"

The figure continued to pace back and forth for a few silent moments before speaking again. The werewolf's yellow eyes remained locked on him; he was tempted to ask the pacing figure what exactly they would do next since they had not accomplished whatever they had set out to do, but refrained when he realized that he barely knew what this plan entailed to begin with. He had been coaxed into cooperation with the promise of being able to come out of hiding, once a new regime, one like the Dark Lord's had been, was established. Apparently, whatever the plan was, it would accomplish this.

"However," the figure went on, sounding slightly calmer now. He spoke slowly as a hopeful realization dawned upon him. "Potter may not dare to go public at the moment. It would be unwise for him to draw attention to himself in the wake of a Ministry break-in, and a Gringotts break-in, when he is the only one who has been known to have done both in recent history. The magical community views him as a hero, but I am sure they have their patiences as to how many times they want the boy breaking into their ministerial headquarters and their banks illegally."

He was now speaking to himself more than the other two conscious figures.

"_And_," he continued, "In _both_ instances, the _well-publicized_ evidence," he put a sort of flourish on these last few words as if it were his own doing that the information on both the Ministry breach and the bank break-in was so thoroughly leaked to the press, "Pointed to _two_ suspects, not one. To draw attention to himself might draw attention to his little friend, which is probably the last thing he wants to do at the moment. Not after what happened to them."

Several moments of silence passed, during which the figure continued to pace back and forth idly, thinking to himself. Perhaps they were not in as bad of shape as he had first thought. Still, they would need to proceed carefully. He stopped in his pacing to glance at the man lying unconscious in the cot closest to him. If he were awake, they would be able to confer as to what their next step would be.

"No matter," the figure mumbled quietly to himself. He didn't really _need_ to confer with him. _He_, after all, was one of the most integral parts of the scheme, was he not? Aside from most of the dirty work, it was his own job to produce the results that they wanted. He was also the only one of them who was able to live a public existence. They _needed_ him, far more than he needed _them_.

More silence passed while the figure, now still, continued to stare at the unconscious man closest to him.

"Alright, alright," said figure at last, seeming to have come to a conclusion inside his mind, calming the remainder of his frustration. "Here is what we will do. We will continue to watch the house. You by day," the figure pointed a finger at Greyback, whose expression became even more unpleasant, "And you, by night." The figure now pointed to the other conscious figure in the room.

Up until this point, he had remained seated quietly in his chair, taking little notice of the room's other occupants aside from when the werewolf would growl or make a sudden movement. Now that he had been addressed directly, the rim of his hood turned in the direction of his addresser. In the room's dim light, a soft, violet gleam was visible from underneath it.

"Yes, yes, that should work," the figure continued, assured in his choices. "Now that she knows, it is probably only a matter of time before she shows up there again to sniff around. Potter has already seen _you_," he said, motioning to the werewolf, making it clear that the rationale behind this choice was to avoid exposing any of their other comrades to possible identification, "And I do not believe Potter would know who you are, anyway, am I correct?" he asked the hooded figure.

"We have never met face-to-face, no," answered a voice from underneath the hood. It was deep, smooth, and even.

"Perfect," said the first figure, now addressing both the werewolf and the hooded figure. "And let me make myself perfectly clear. I do not care what you have to do to her as long as it does not result in _lasting harm_, am I understood?" He glared; apparently this choice of words was supposed to hold special a meaning for both of them. Both the werewolf and the hooded man conveyed their understanding with a single nod. "Do only what is necessary. Hold her when she appears and summon me, or bring her to me. If this fails, we shall need to find some other avenue of hunting her down again, before she and Potter find _us_."

* * *

When Sarah awoke after a peaceful night's sleep, there was a small amount of light streaming in through the window, and she found that Snape had gone. After yawning and stretching simultaneously, she sat up, wincing slightly. The pain from the werewolf wounds was still quite evident, though it felt as if it had lessened slightly after her last treatment with that foul, excruciatingly painful ointment. _At least that means it's working,_ she thought wryly to herself.

Glancing quickly around the room, she found that she was indeed alone. She also noticed that there had been something left for her on the chair next to the bed which Snape usually occupied. Her clothes, having been apparently cleaned and mended by him, were laid out neatly for her. Taking this as a sign that she was now permitted to get out of bed, she grabbed her wand, which Harry had left for her on the side table. She flicked it toward the room's door ever-so-gently, afraid that she might somehow manage to inadvertently destroy it. Thankfully, the door swung shut slowly and quietly, allowing her to change out of Snape's overlarge robes and back into her own familiar clothing.

When she was dressed, she pocketed her wand and headed out into the hallway where she was greeted with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting up from downstairs. She strode down the hallway, warily at first; the last time she had tried to leave the bed and travel downstairs, she had been extremely unsteady on her feet, and every step she had taken pained her. This time, however, she quickly became confident when nothing hurt, aside from the dull pain of the werewolf wounds. Despite her confidence, she took the stairs slowly on her way down, one step at a time.

Making her way to the kitchen, what she found there was almost surreal. From what she knew of their mutual backgrounds, she could not imagine two less likely people to be sitting in a kitchen together, looking civil. As she stood in the door frame, she found Harry, seated at the table with a cleaned plate in front of him, as well as a steaming mug of coffee; and Snape, standing up and leaning against the cabinets, sipping coffee from his own mug. When he spied the girl in the doorway, his eyes lifted from the rim of his mug, and he quickly set it down on the counter top beside him. Harry, aware of Snape's sudden shift in attention, looked toward the doorway as well.

They had just been discussing the implications of what they had learned yesterday; Sarah's apparent lapse in memory and complete unawareness of what she had done to their attackers. They immediately began discussing the most logical explanation, whether or not it was possible that the girl could have been Imperiused. Harry approached the explanation with skepticism. He had told Snape everything that he had seen transpire, but it was true that he had not seen what exactly happened to Sarah until a certain point. It was entirely possible that she could have been Imperiused during that time, Harry admitted, but both he and Snape agreed that it was highly unlikely. Harry wondered why, if the girl _had_ been Imperiused, she had not been turned on him by her attackers, instead of turning on the attackers themselves. Perhaps it had been a poorly and incompletely applied curse? Even with the extreme unlikeliness that Sarah had been Imperiused, Harry and Snape could find no other logical explanation for her lapse in memory.

Even so, Snape deemed it wise for Harry to begin teaching the girl to resist the effects of the curse. Their discussion had reached this conclusion by the time Sarah entered the kitchen, unaware that they had been conversing about her.

"Good morning," Snape spoke first, eyeing the girl over. Apparently, he was unable to mask the concern with which he gazed at her.

"I'm fine, honestly," Sarah said convincingly, striding into the kitchen and pulling out a chair at the table, "I'm feeling much better today," she said, seating herself across from Harry, and smiling up at Snape.

"Forgive me," Snape replied with a smirk, "For the last time you ventured from your sickbed unattended you appeared as if you could barely walk."

"She looks loads better now," Harry said. He was glad to see Sarah back in her own clothing. Snape had done an excellent job cleaning and mending them; if Harry hadn't been aware of the werewolf scratches on her collarbone or the strange mark that had appeared on her wrist, it would have looked as if nothing had happened to her.

"Agreed," Snape said, turning and busying himself about the kitchen, fetching food for the girl. He and the boy had already eaten. "Hungry?"

"Very," she replied. In a trice, Snape had a breakfast prepared for her consisting of coffee, eggs, bacon, and toast.

When she had finished eating, Sarah wandered back into the sitting room. Having been bedridden since she had arrived here, she had so far been unable to really appreciate being in Snape's home. She made several slow circles around the small sitting room, taking it in. As she did, Harry seated himself upon the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table and reclining comfortably. Snape was still in the kitchen, sorting out the dishes.

"So, what shall we do today?" Harry asked jokingly as he put his arms up behind his head, watching Sarah as she strolled around the room.

Sarah did not reply; her attention was directed toward examining the details of the room. It was not quite what she had expected Snape's home to look like. This room was much more full of things than she would have expected, yet it still looked austere in its own sort of way; it looked as if many of the tomes which filled the bookcase-lined walls hadn't been touched in years. There was a layer of dust on the mantle above the fireplace. There was a fire burning within it, filling the room with light and heat, but the room was still somewhat dark. Sarah quickly realized that this was due to the fact that all of the room's curtains were drawn tightly shut. Proceeding over to the nearest one, she flung the curtains open, letting daylight flood into the room. When she could finally see out of the somewhat grimy windows, she gasped.

Harry sat up straight in an instant, his hand on his wand, and his eyes on Sarah. When he had heard her gasp, he had immediately assumed the worst. Instead, he relaxed when he saw Sarah with her face and hands pressed to the window like an excited child gazing into a storefront.

"Look, fresh snow!" Sarah exclaimed. Everything she could see outside was covered in a fresh blanket of pristine, untouched snow, and flakes were still falling from the mildly bright gray sky above.

"Don't gasp like that next time," Harry said, getting up off of the couch and walking over to where Sarah stood before the window. "For a moment I thought you'd seen someone outside with a wand pointed at you." When he reached where she stood, he peered over her shoulder and out of the window. The houses which marched off into the distance all looked as if they had cake icing upon them. Even though the sky above was clouded as snow continued to fall, the blanket of white made it seem much brighter outside.

"We should go for a walk," Sarah said, her breath fogging up the already grimy window to the point where she could no longer see out of it very well. She turned away from it, glancing back at Harry. "I could use it after being in bed all that time, and it's so pretty outside. What do you think?"

Harry raised his eyebrows at her suggestion. After having been cooped up in Snape's home for the past couple of days, a walk outside _did_ sound quite appealing. A noise from the kitchen caused him to glance toward the doorway. It sounded as if cabinets were shutting loudly; Snape must have finished with the dishes.

"I think I'd better ask, first," said Harry, after having an inkling that taking the girl outside of the house without permission at the present moment might not be the wisest thing to do. After taking a couple of steps in the direction of the kitchen, however, he stopped in his tracks. "No, wait," he said, turning back toward Sarah who was still standing at the grimy, fogged-up window. "_You_ ask. I bet he'll be more apt to say yes if _you_ ask him for something rather than me, don't you think?"

Sarah smiled amusedly.

"Good idea," she agreed, walking past him, around the couch in the middle of the room, and toward the kitchen doorway. Harry followed behind her.

Before they reached the doorway, however, Snape appeared inside it. He stopped when he realized he was only a few feet away from both the girl and the boy, and they looked as if they were headed for the kitchen. When they saw him, they stopped as well, looking up at him expectantly. He blinked at them. Sarah stepped forward immediately.

"Severus," she began, her tone sweet, "May Harry and I go for a walk? It's been snowing."

Snape did not reply immediately. Instead, he first lifted his dark eyes from the girl's gaze and looked to the window across the room. He could tell from the quality of the light outside, as well as the sheer amount of whiteness visible, that it had indeed snowed a respectable amount. Due to his preoccupation with tending to the girl, as well as his habit of keeping all of his curtains drawn shut, he hadn't even noticed. His eyes then darted to the boy, who was also glancing toward the window. When Harry felt Snape's eyes on him, he turned to meet them.

Harry blinked at Snape, trying to look as neutral as possible; it wouldn't do to inadvertently look as if he were up to something. It was a force of habit that he still felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of that black-eyed gaze.

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. _He always looks as if he's up to something_, he sighed within his own mind. He turned his gaze back to the girl who was still looking up at him hopefully. It was difficult for him to deny her what she wanted. He knew that her condition had certainly improved enough to merit talking a walk outside, but something else still concerned him. He had certainly never expected her to be so viciously attacked as she was, and the thought of it made him not want to let the girl out of his sight again. He could have lost her.

He was still too wary to let the girl leave the house without him, even if she would be in the boy's company.

"Only if I am permitted to accompany you," he said at last. His eyes darted back to the boy to gauge his reaction, which would surely be a negative one. Instead, Snape was taken aback when the boy looked pleased.

Several minutes later, all three of them were suitably bundled up for a walk in the snow. When they were ready to leave, Snape withdrew his wand from inside his cloak. With a few flicks, the curtains which Sarah had opened drew themselves shut again, and the front door had unlocked itself and swung open to allow them outside.

Sarah and Harry trudged out after the door had opened, beating a path through the thick snow. After Snape stepped outside and locked the door behind him with another flick of his wand, he found them waiting for him at the end of the walk. Stepping through their already-trodden footprints, he tucked his wand away in an outside pocket before reaching them. He then walked past them. The girl quickly fell into stride on his right, and the boy walked beside her.

Even though they were walking beside him, Snape had silently taken the lead in their little walk, and Sarah and Harry followed whenever he would change direction. He led them away from Spinner's End, past the polluted, stagnant stream which ran close by. Under a fresh coating of snow, however, its muddy and litter-strewn banks were hidden, and it almost looked picturesque. Flakes were still falling from above, but it was clear that the heaviest of the snow had already fallen, and was now tapering off.

Snape felt odd as he walked along, distancing himself from his home. It was true that he lived at Hogwarts most of the year, but even while living on Spinner's End, he could not remember the last time he had ventured outside into the surrounding neighborhood. He usually stayed shut up inside, Apparating directly in and out if he needed to leave for something. The last time he left his front door on foot and walked out into the neighborhood must have been sometime during his childhood; after he had reached the age to learn Apparition, he thought painfully, there was no longer any need for him to go anywhere else in the neighborhood.

The girl, as well as the boy, seemed to be at ease as they walked, enjoying the winter scenery; Snape, however, remained on the alert. His sharp black eyes darted about as they went, scanning over snowbanks and around corners. His hands were thrust deeply into his pockets, keeping them warm, but also keeping his right hand securely on his wand, ready to draw it at half a moment's notice. More than once, he turned his head to glance behind them. This did not go unnoticed by the girl, who was walking very close to his side.

Wordlessly, she moved closer to him, hooking her left arm around his right. It was stiff at first as he maintained a tight grip on his wand, but relaxed at her touch. When Harry noticed the pair walking arm-in-arm, he quickly became very interested in eyeing the small houses as they passed them. Just as he had noticed when he first arrived here with Sarah, many of the houses appeared to be uninhabited, looking quite run-down. As they moved off of Spinner's End and down another lane, the houses seemed to improve in condition slightly and were more regularly inhabited. Still, here and there among the plots were houses that were clearly empty.

"Why are so many of these houses empty?" Harry asked aloud, not really expecting an answer.

Snape looked up, glancing at the single huge chimney in the distance, which had not given off smoke in recent memory.

"A lot of people moved away when the mill was shut down. That was many, many years ago now," he recalled. "Maybe twenty."

"Wow," said Sarah, glancing up at the huge, smokeless chimney in the distance. "How long have you lived here?"

"Since I was a boy," Snape replied, still trudging onward through the snow blindly with Harry and Sarah following him, not even thinking about where he was leading them.

Sarah's eyes opened a little more widely with the realization that the house on Spinner's End was his boyhood home. Inwardly, she wondered what had become of his parents, but refrained from asking such an intrusive question aloud, especially in Harry's company.

Harry glanced over at Sarah. He could not help but notice how starkly her bright red eyes stood out against their snow-covered surroundings. No matter how much he was trying to get used to it, he still found it unnerving.

After several more minutes of quietly walking along together, they reached a part of the neighborhood which looked markedly nicer than the parts that they had traveled through to get here. The homes were larger and more widely spaced apart, and it seemed as if all of them were inhabited. Still following Snape, they turned down another lane and continued on. Harry was examining the nicer-looking houses with interest. Half way down the lane, however, he stopped when he suddenly realized that he was alone.

Snape had stopped suddenly, and was standing so rigidly that Sarah, whose arm was still locked in his, almost tumbled down into the snow at the abrupt halt in forward momentum. Withdrawing her arm from his, she turned about to face him. Harry, several paces ahead of them, turned back as well.

"What? What is it?" Harry asked nervously, certain that Snape, whose vigilance had not gone unnoticed by him, had spotted something dangerous. His own hand was reaching inside his cloak, feeling for his wand. Sarah, having jumped to the same conclusion that Harry had, was also feeling for her wand, her body tense.

Snape did not reply immediately. He had been walking along blindly, unaware of where his feet had been unconsciously leading him. Memories which had lain dormant for so long were suddenly rushing back to him. This lane was full of them. He was brought back to his senses when he noticed the boy, as well as the girl, scanning the houses around them on the lane, their wands drawn.

"Nothing, it's nothing," he said stiffly, frowning at their drawn wands. Both Harry and Sarah quickly tucked them away again. Snape continued walking again without preamble, his black eyes downcast to the snow at his feet and his cloak billowing about him. "Your mother lived here when she was a girl," he said quietly. Sarah quickly jumped into stride beside him again, glancing back at Harry eagerly, but Harry remained rooted to the spot. His eyes widened at Snape's words, taking in the house which stood before him.

The scathing little girl that Harry recalled in Snape's memory had been correct; his mother and his aunt lived in a much nicer part of the neighborhood than the Snape family had. This home was significantly bigger than the home on Spinner's End, and unlike most of the houses on Spinner's End, it was well-kept and appeared to be inhabited. Harry stood quite still, his bright green eyes sweeping over the home, wondering what kind of memories it would have held for his mother, and simultaneously wondering what kind of memories it still held for Snape. Snape, he knew, had visited here in his youth, while he was still close friends with Lily. How many happy days had they shared here, playing together, and discussing the world of magic that was so new and fascinating to his mother? Had Petunia eavesdropped on them, so eager to learn more about the world that she claimed to detest, a world which was so painfully out of her reach?

When Snape and Sarah had put some distance between themselves and where he still stood, Harry glanced over at them. Reluctantly, he forced himself to stop staring at the house and quickly hurried after them. Snape seemed to be walking with a renewed vigor, keen on getting away from this particular lane and its memories as quickly as possible. Sarah trod along beside him, almost having to jog to keep up with his long-legged strides. Harry caught up to them quickly enough, but remained quiet as he fell back into stride beside Sarah; he wouldn't dare inquire anything else about the childhood that Snape and his mother had shared together, despite his burning desire to know more.

"It's quite cold," Snape said as they turned off of the lane on which Lily's former home rested, "We should return."

As they followed beside him, Sarah glanced over at Harry helplessly. Harry glanced to Snape, and it would have been difficult _not_ to notice the transformation in demeanor that had taken place. Before they had encountered Lily's former home, Snape had been vigilant, almost to the point of paranoia. Now, however, he walked with his eyes downcast to the snow at his feet, and his hands thrust deeply into his pockets, no longer walking arm-in-arm with the girl beside him. Harry looked back to Sarah with a shrug. He knew how touchy of a subject all of this was, and his shrug was an attempt to convey that it should probably be left alone.

Several minutes of silent walking ensued, save for the sound of thick, wet snow being compacted beneath their feet. Snape still did not lift his eyes. Without looking, he was letting them beat the familiar path back to Spinner's End from the lane where Lily's house had been in the same way that they had unconsciously carried him there in the first place. Sarah was walking at his side, looking defeated and helpless, unable to do anything about Snape's sour new mood. Harry, meanwhile, was searching for some way to diffuse the situation. When an idea hit him, he smiled broadly to himself.

Suddenly, Harry stopped walking and stooped low to the snow-covered ground.

Sarah caught this in the corner of her eye and stopped too, turning about to look at him. Snape walked on.

"Harry, what-," Sarah began, but was unable to finish her sentence before a large snowball struck her, exploding on impact and covering her in snow. Dumbstruck, she stared at Harry, blinking at him rapidly in surprise. Harry only smiled back, his bright green eyes glittering from behind snow-flecked lenses. A moment later, Sarah smiled back, stooping down into the snow and quickly packing a snowball together.

Before she could complete her snowball, however, Harry had struck her with another, covering her hair in snow.

"Hey!" she shouted, packing together her snowball and standing, shaking her head back and forth to sweep the snow out of her long hair.

When the girl shouted, Snape wheeled about, his wand pointed in her direction. A shot of adrenaline had coursed through him. Perhaps in his slackened vigilance, he had let someone approach them, unnoticed. Instead, he found the girl standing with her right arm aloft, holding a snowball, ready to launch it. Her target, the boy, was already in flight. When she tossed her snowball at him, he had already ducked behind a tree; the snowball exploded on its bark, the heavy snow sticking to it in a starfish-like shape. Snape could hear laughter coming from both of them. The girl had already crouched down again, packing together another snowball, but the boy was fast. Before she had finished packing it, he sent another of his own at her from behind the tree.

"Oof!" Sarah exclaimed, Harry's snowball hitting her with such force that she toppled over where she crouched, losing her balance. "Ouch, that one hit my werewolf marks, you little-!"

Snape's eyes widened in concern and he lowered his wand, fearing she was injured, but even as she said this, she was laughing and smiling as she continued packing together a snowball where she lay. The boy peeked out from behind his tree, grinning widely and laughing.

"Sorry!" Harry shouted back. He realized his mistake immediately, ducking back behind the tree as Sarah's snowball soared past the place where his head had just been. He was on his knees quickly, packing together another snowball. Before he could pack it to exactly the size he wanted, he could hear fast-approaching footfalls coming toward him.

He sprang to his feet just as Sarah rounded the tree, another snowball held aloft in her right hand. As he ran from her, he was struck squarely in the back by her snowball. He spun about to return fire as he continued running, and he could tell from the soft _thump_ that he had made contact. He ran past Snape, who was standing quite still, watching them with a bemused expression upon his face.

Sarah stooped down again as Harry ran past Snape, packing together another snowball as quickly as she could. Harry stooped several yards away as well, working feverishly on his own snowball. Sarah finished first, sending it straight at Harry, who was struck on the top of his head, covering his own hair in snow. With his own snowball finished, Harry stood, arm held back in preparation to throw, watching as Sarah stooped to the snow again. Snape was standing between them, with most of his back facing him. Green eyes darted from the girl crouched in the snow to the dark man standing beside her several times before he made his decision. Instead of throwing the snowball at Sarah, he lobbed it at Snape. It hit him on the shoulder.

Snape rounded on the boy, his features ablaze, but the boy only smiled back at him, laughing. As he met the boy's bright, laughter-filled green eyes with his own, more memories raced through his mind, unbidden, and frighteningly vivid. They clouded his vision and sent him spinning backwards into recollection. A laughing, green-eyed, red-haired girl in the winter time, snow surrounding her; it had not been uncommon for Lily to start snowball fights with him. Once, she had caused an entire tree, its boughs laden with heavy snow, to dump its contents directly on top of his head as he passed underneath it. Initially, he had been sour about such jokes, but her infectious laughter would soon catch hold of him.

Despite his initial anger with the boy for hitting him so blatantly with a snowball, he remained standing there, rooted to the spot, his black eyes frighteningly large as visions of a young Lily swam past his mind's eye.

The girl behind him was laughing too; it was this sound that snapped him back into reality. In an instant, his vision of Lily shimmered back into the form of her green-eyed, untidy-haired son, standing before him still laughing and smiling. The expression that now washed over Snape's features was stuck somewhere between anger and confusion until the girl behind him spoke.

"Are you going to take that from him, Severus?" the girl shouted, laughing hysterically at Snape, standing there covered in an explosion of snow. She was still packing together her own snowball, which was reaching an incredible size.

Snape blinked, his eyes focusing further on Harry, who was still smiling and laughing, daring him toward reprisal.

In less than the blink of an eye, Snape made a sweeping movement of his right hand, which still held his wand; a veritable tidal wave of snow shot up from beneath Harry's feet, engulfing him wholly and sending him flying several feet back into a snowdrift against an old, gangly tree. As he struck it, heaps of snow which were piled heavily in the tree's boughs fell down upon him.

Harry sputtered and coughed where he landed, struggling to his feet as he labored to brush snow out of his face with both of his arms.

"Hey!" he yelled between snow-induced coughs, "No wands!"

Snape's breath caught in his throat as another memory rushed back to him in frightening detail... a little, fiery red-haired girl, her hair standing out vividly against the pile of white snow which engulfed her by his doing, shouting at him... _"No fair, Sev! No wands!"_... Instead of protesting that _she_ herself had just used her wand to dump an entire tree's worth of snow atop his head, he simply chuckled, stowed his wand within his robes, and crouched down into the snow, packing together a snowball in the old fashioned, Muggle way...

"Come on, Severus!" the girl's shouting jerked him back into reality a second time. "Help me out, here!"

He quickly saw the girl dart past him, toward the boy. She lobbed her snowball at him forcefully, but he rolled out of the way just in time, causing it to strike the tree behind him and explode in a shower of glittering flakes. After she had tossed it, she glanced back at him, smiling. Snape looked back at her for only a moment before a mischievous smirk tilted his mouth, and he too crouched down into the snow, packing together a snowball, just as he had done in his youth.

"Blimey!" Harry shouted as he peaked out from behind his new tree, realizing that he was now being double-teamed. _Oh well,_ he thought to himself, _I asked for it!_

Sarah and Snape, both with freshly-formed, hand-packed snowballs were soon chasing after him. Before he knew what was happening, he was being pummeled from all sides. As he ran along in front of them, trying to evade their barrage, a particularly well-aimed shot from Snape hit him on the side of the head, stinging coldly and sending his eyeglasses askew several yards away from him. As Harry dove for his glasses, Sarah dove for _him_ with amazing agility, tackling him in the snow, laughing wildly. Harry tried to wrestle himself free, but soon ended up pinned underneath her. She seized his right arm and rolled his sleeve back, exposing his newly-acquired claw marks, courtesy of Fenrir Greyback. She then grabbed a handful of snow and began smearing it up and down his arm, all the while laughing.

"See?" she shouted, smiling as she tormented her friend by rubbing snow into his werewolf wounds, "Doesn't feel very good now, does it?"

Harry squirmed feebly, unable to keep himself from laughing. The snow being rubbed into his wounds actually felt quite refreshing in a strange way. By what little he could see through his snow-covered glasses, Snape was now looming above him too, another large, hard-packed snowball held ready in his hand.

"Alright, alright, I surrender, I surrender!" Harry yelled, still trying to wrench himself free of Sarah. As soon as his official surrender had been delivered, Sarah let go of him, rolling off of him and getting to her feet. Both Sarah and Harry were laughing quite hard as they brushed excess snow off of their clothing, and even Snape bore a sort of jovial-yet-disappointed look as he dropped his fresh snowball to the ground, denied of the chance to toss it at their enemy who had just surrendered.

During the course of their snowball fight, they had traveled most of the way back to Spinner's End. Harry thought it quite ironic has he stepped through the front door, wondering when he ever might have thought, during his entire lifetime, that Snape's home might ever feel warm and welcoming to him. With a hasty flick of Snape's wand, the fireplace was roaring. All three of them had become quite soaked with snow. After they had shed their outer layers, they warmed themselves by the fireside. Without having to be asked, Snape had soon prepared them a large pot of tea.

Sarah and Harry spent most of the day sitting by the fireside, laughing together between applications of the foul-smelling ointment to their wounds provided by Snape. As they sat by the fireside, Snape sat on the sofa in the middle of the room, watching the two of them, his expression inscrutable, yet somehow pleasant.

* * *

Later that night, Snape and Sarah were curled up comfortably in Snape's bed, just as they had been the previous night when Sarah had asked him to stay with her. Harry was long asleep in his own bed in the guest room, and just as an extra precaution, Snape had taken the time to close the door to the room where he and Sarah slept, just in case. She certainly seemed to be feeling much better, judging from her performance in the snowball fight earlier that day. She had managed to aim quite a few skillful shots at Potter, but none of them quite matched his own shot which knocked Potter's glasses from his face. Replaying it within his mind, he smirked to himself.

The lamps in the room where burning lowly, and both of them were not quite yet asleep underneath the covers. Sarah was wearing an old pair of Snape's robes as nightclothes, just as he had dressed her in them after her injuries, when her own clothing had been torn and bloody, and he had not yet had a chance to repair them. Snape, however, had climbed into bed nude, hoping the girl was too drowsy to notice. This night, he had not administered a Sleeping Draught to her, hoping that she would finally be able to rest well on her own. The girl, however, was cleverer than he expected; the unmistakable intensity of the body heat radiating off of him had immediately given away the fact that he was lying against her, nude.

As soon as he began falling asleep himself, there was a warm hand feeling its way along his thigh, toward his...

"Mmph," he protested, seizing the girl's wandering hand with his own; they were lying in a spooning position, the girl lying at his front. "And just what do you think you are doing?" he drawled, smirking. Lying so close to her, he inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of her hair.

Sarah's eyes darted about nervously in the room's semi-darkness. She had been caught.

"Perhaps I should have given you a Sleeping Draught after all," Snape continued, his tone deep and smooth, yet jocular. "What do you think? Or did you want me to give you something... _else_," he pressed his lower body into her firmly, "To help you get to sleep?"

Sarah swallowed hard. Her face was burning and her heart was racing. After missing physical intimacy with this man so much, having his naked body pressed up against her was quickly getting to be too much. His hand was still wrapped tightly around her wrist, and his touch was unbearably warm.

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. The girl did not respond, but he could tell from the quickening pulse in her wrist, as well as her breathing, that she was fast becoming aroused. Several more moments of silent, heated tension passed before the girl finally spoke, during which Snape began to gently kiss a bit of neck that was exposed to him.

"But-," Sarah started, her voice very quiet, "But last night you said-"

"_Last_ night, I believe you were in much greater discomfort than you are now, am I correct?" Snape asked, still kissing the back of her neck and pressing his body closer to hers. "You threw quite a few snowballs today, and you were hit by just as many, but did not complain to me once of pain... except during your treatments, of course."

The girl squirmed a little against him, her arousal heightening when his obvious desire was pressed firmly against her. He released her wrist, instead using his hand to feel his way up her stomach and to her breasts, where he began to caress them gently. The girl moaned softly, pressing herself back into his naked body firmly, wanting to be closer to him in every possible way.

"_Although_," Snape said, his voice laced with concern as well as teasing, "I _still_ don't want to put your body through any extra stress, so-"

Before he finished his sentence, the girl squirmed and whined loudly in protest, thinking that he had just been teasing her all along. With his arm wrapped around her, he pulled her very hard against him to quiet her.

"_So_," he continued more loudly, "I will just have to be _extremely_ gentle, won't I?"

* * *

When both of them descended back into reality, the girl gave a great sigh of relief, which Snape echoed by humming deeply in an amused sort of way, smiling to himself again as he held the girl against him after withdrawing from her.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yes," the girl replied, closing her eyes and yawning softly. "That was _much_ better than another Sleeping Draught. What about you?"

Snape began tenderly running long, smooth strands of the girl's hair between his fingers.

"Much better," he said softly. "I have missed this, greatly." He paused, taking a deep breath. "After I threw you out of my office on that day, I was afraid that I had done something to you which would make you never want to see me again... at least, not like this."

"You were?" the girl asked, turning over to face him. His features were just visible in the dim light.

"I was terrified," he admitted again.

"But then, why did you-,"

"I kept my distance afterward because I-," he paused, unable to form the end of his sentence.

"Because you're stubborn?" she suggested, placing her right palm flat on his chest, over his heart. Her wrist was still wrapped with bandages to cover the mark, and she could feel his heart beating. He smirked, covering her hand with his own.

"I believe that is a fair assessment," he agreed. The girl's smile seemed to shine through the darkness. "I was afraid of losing you because of Potter, just like-," he swallowed hard, but remained silent for a few moments. "He had put you in extreme danger, and now he has put you through even more," he continued, his voice stern but not angry. "You could have died."

Sarah remained silent for a few moments as well. They continued to gaze at each other in the darkness.

"Harry hasn't made me do anything that I didn't want to do," she said calmly. "_He_ didn't put me in any sort of danger. I put myself in it, and he also saved my life."

Snape closed his eyes, feeling conflicted about what to say next. It was true that the boy had saved her life, but part of him could not stop himself from blaming the boy for the danger that she had been put into in the first place. At the same time, he realized that _she_ shared an equal part in the blame for putting the both of them into such terrible danger by agreeing to go along with it, and that there was probably nothing he could do to prevent her from doing it again. He had overheard her conversation with the boy last night; they had agreed to keep searching for the truth behind what had happened, and doing so would no doubt place them in danger again one way or another. There was something more going on than what met the eye. There had been people waiting to ambush them in that Muggle neighborhood. He was sure that _someone_ knew what was really going on, and both the boy and the girl knew the same. They would not stop searching.

"I know," he said at last, "And when you showed up on my doorstep barely clinging to life, I realized something."

"What?"

"I realized that I had almost lost you... in more ways than one," he said solemnly, pressing her hand more firmly into his chest with his own. "I almost drove you completely away with what a fool I was," he continued, "And then, I was busy brooding about it while you were almost killed."

"Severus, you-,"

"No, listen," he insisted.

The girl fell silent, listening intently. It was a rare thing to have Snape opening up like this, and it appeared that he was not about to stop now.

"I know that there is nothing I can do to stop Potter - Harry, and you, in your search," he continued, holding the hand that was pressed to his chest tightly, "But there _is_ something else I can do."

Sarah remained silent.

"I can protect you. I won't..." he paused. _I won't lose you like her, while I am forced to watch, helpless and powerless to stop it..._ "I won't let it happen again."

Both of them fell silent when Snape wrapped both of his arms around her, hugging her close to him. Neither spoke another word that night before sleep overtook them.


	26. Christmas

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 26: Christmas.

* * *

It was now Friday morning. Harry and Sarah were still staying in Snape's home, though not out of the same necessity as earlier in the week, when they had still needed to recover from their injuries. All of their injuries had been skillfully healed by him, and their werewolf wounds were well on their way to being healed soon as well. Now, the reason why they were still staying in Snape's home was twofold; for one, Harry could tell that Sarah was immensely enjoying herself and was extremely happy to be spending time here, and two, Harry knew that Snape did not want to let the girl out of his sight, and so he had not yet broached the topic of when exactly he and Sarah would return to Grimmauld Place.

As strange as it was to be staying in Snape's home, Harry was finding his stay oddly pleasant. Snape was being, dare he think it, almost _nice_ to him. Although, perhaps, as Harry thought to himself, this was only because of Sarah being around. If she were to catch Snape being cruel or otherwise rude to her friend, she would probably be cross with him. Still, Harry was holding out hope that things between them had changed for the better, if only slightly. Saving Sarah's life, despite the fact that he was somewhat responsible for the danger that she had been put in, had to count for _something_. Or, perhaps Snape's new behavior only _seemed_ nice in comparison to his usual behavior, which was on the far opposite end of the spectrum.

They had spent the past few days generally relaxing, but Sarah still had learning to do. For several hours a day, Harry had been teaching Sarah to resist the effects of the Imperius Curse, as he and Snape had deemed it wise for her to learn this skill. Snape would also occasionally join in the lessons, as Occlumency proved to be a valuable skill when working in tandem with trying to resist the effects of the powerful curse. Aside from these lessons, Sarah had taken it upon herself to clean all of the excess dust out of the home, as most of it was extremely dusty and unkempt. With a lack of anything better to do, Harry would join her in the endeavor. Snape found it slightly irritating, and insisted that he would have gotten a house-elf if he wanted his home cleaned that badly. Still, he submitted to the girl's desire to tidy up his home, as long as she and the boy agreed to not put anything out of place.

Now, on Friday morning, a small amount of light was streaming through the window into the room where Sarah and Snape lie curled up together, sleeping. It was not long before the light was caressing their closed eyelids, causing them to slowly awaken. Sarah yawned when she felt Snape shifting around beside her in the bed.

"Mmm, Merry Christmas," Snape said tiredly as he turned over in bed, his voice slightly hoarse from lack of use during the night.

"Merry Christmas," Sarah yawned back, smiling to herself. _Mmm, Christmas. How nice._

_Wait a second... Christmas..._

_**CHRISTMAS?**_

"It's Christmas!" Sarah shouted in surprise, sitting bolt upright in bed, sending her covers flying. She was still dressed in an old pair of Snape's robes for her nightclothes in order to keep warm.

Snape, startled by the girl's sudden shouting, sat bolt upright too, sending the covers on his side of the bed flying. His chest was bare as he was quite nude. He looked at her in confusion, his eyes wide.

"Of course it's Christmas, that's what I just said," Snape explained calmly. The girl, however, looked frazzled about the fact that it was Christmas instead of joyous.

"No, no, it's Christmas, it's Christmas!" she shouted again, tearing away the rest of the covers on her side and scrambling out of the bed. Then, she bolted to the door, flung it open, and sprinted down the hallway. Snape, not caring that the door was open, tore the rest of his covers away and fumbled for an article of clothing, eager to follow the girl in her apparent distress due to the holiday.

Sarah, already down the hallway, reached the door to the room in which Harry slept during the night. Without bothering to knock, she flung it open to reveal Harry, naked save for his trunks, attempting to pull on a pair of pants in a standing position. At the sudden intrusion of his door being flung wide open, he started, and fell over in a heap, the pants only half way up his legs. His head had smacked the floor with some force, but luckily, his glasses stayed on.

"What the-!" he looked up from the floor to see Sarah standing in the doorway, looking much the same way she did when she had seen a Hogwarts ghost for the first time. "What is it, what's wrong?" he said quickly, scrambling to his feet as fast as possible. The half-on pair of pants pooled at his ankles.

"It's Christmas!" Sarah shouted again. As she did, loud, hurried footsteps were making their way down the hall toward where she stood.

"Of course it is," Harry supplied without really thinking. When it dawned on him a moment later, however, his eyes widened. "It's Christmas?"

Sarah nodded vigorously. Harry did not have time to respond before Snape appeared behind her in the doorway in a similar state of undress as himself; he was wearing only boxers.

"What's the matter?" he begged of the girl standing before him, placing a hand on her shoulder. In his confusion, he looked up into the room. There he found the boy, half naked, a pair of pants pooled around his ankles, and giving him a strange look. Realizing that he had just shown Potter more of himself than the boy probably ever cared to see, he smirked and turned down the hallway, headed back to fully dress before coming out again.

"Wow," Harry said once Snape was gone, pulling up his pants and quickly dressing. Sarah, realizing that she had intruded upon him quite rudely, looked away out of courtesy. "I guess we sort of lost track of time here, didn't we?"

Snape reappeared only a moment later, fully dressed.

"We're supposed to be at Ron and Ginny's house later for dinner," Sarah said, calming down.

"Do not worry," Snape said, "I did not lose track of the time. I was planning to remind both of you of your prior arrangements during breakfast. I imagine that would have been much more preferable to running about the house shouting at each other in our nightclothes."

Sarah blushed and apologized quietly.

"Good thing you remembered, then," Harry admitted. After everything that had happened, and every troubled thought now swimming through his mind, he had lost track of time. It appeared that Sarah had, too. "Ginny and Ron are supposed to come home with us afterward, and Hermione is supposed to arrive tomorrow."

"I bet they would have been more than a little concerned if we didn't show up to dinner, and then we were nowhere to be found at Grimmauld Place," Sarah said, heaving a sigh of relief.

"Doing _that_ would have been just as good as admitting to Hermione that it was us who broke into Gringotts," Harry said with a small laugh. When he looked up at Sarah again, his laughter grew heavier; she was standing there, next to Snape, dressed identically to him in a pair of his old robes. He was quieted with a tiny glare from Snape. "Well, at any rate, that means we'll have to get going today," he said, relieved to have an excuse to broach the topic of leaving.

Sarah looked a bit saddened at this news, and she glanced up at Snape, whose reaction she was dreading. Snape's eyes, however, were locked on Harry with a steely gaze.

"I am coming with you," he announced.

Harry, wearing an expression of utter bewilderment, looked up at Snape. The deep, black-eyed gaze that bore back into him clearly communicated a message of, _I'm not letting the girl out of my sight. Try and stop me._

Neither the boy or the girl spoke, and several moments of silence passed. Apparently, they were both waiting for him to explain himself. He took a deep breath.

"I promised to protect you," Snape said, turning to the girl at his side, "And so I refuse to let you out of my sight while, for some reason, there may be people after you. I am coming with you," he announced again after explaining himself, turning back to the boy.

Harry sighed when Snape turned back to him. He couldn't very well argue with _that_, not after what had happened on the night when they had broken into the bank. There definitely _were_ people after Sarah, and he too had the same fear that Snape did. He could understand the man's desire to not let Sarah out of his sight, not after she had nearly been killed at the hands of these mysterious people who were as-of-yet unidentified, aside from the frightening realization that Fenrir Greyback was still alive. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Sarah spoke first.

"Aren't you worried?" she asked Snape.

"Of course I am worried, why else would I refuse to let you out of my sight?" Snape replied, sounding slightly annoyed.

"No, not about _that_," Sarah responded, sounding a bit timid. "Ron, Ginny, and Hermione will be there. If you're there, too, they're bound to find out about..." she trailed off, blushing.

Harry cleared his throat softly, causing both Sarah and Snape to look in his direction. When he felt their eyes on him, he blushed a little himself. Looking up, he swallowed hard when he met Snape's gaze; his features had twisted into a look of anger, having already jumped to the conclusion of what he was about to say. Sarah, on the other hand, merely looked confused. Harry cleared his throat again out of nervousness.

"Well, you see, the thing about that is," he began slowly, but quickly rushed to the point when he caught sight of Snape's angry glare again, "Hermione and Ginny already know."

"_What?_" came the simultaneous shout from both Sarah and Snape.

Harry winced, prepared for an onslaught from Snape, but nothing came. Opening one eye, he could see that Sarah was now looking terrified and pale, and Snape looked angrier than ever, silently fuming and waiting for him to explain himself. Opening his other eye, he sighed.

"How?" Sarah finally groaned.

"I sort of let it slip to Hermione on accident, and Ginny figured it out on her own, but they haven't told anyone," Harry explained, "And Ron, well... he's Ron. He won't figure it out until he walks in on you two snogging or something."

"And they don't hate me?" Sarah asked quickly, still looking terrified. She knew how her small group of friends felt about Snape; she had been terrified that, if they knew, they wouldn't take it well at all.

Harry chuckled.

"Of course they don't hate you," he said, smiling, "But they _were_ pretty surprised, to say the least. Well, Hermione was. Ginny seemed to take it in stride."

A wave of relief crashed over Sarah at the news that her friends did not hate her because of her relationship with Snape. Said man, however, was still looking quite angry, and glaring at the boy who was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Does anyone _else_ know about this?" Snape ground out between clenched teeth.

Harry shook his head in the negative.

"No one," he said, "And neither of them would have told anyone else." He gazed back up into Snape's glare with a look of sincerity, imploring him to believe what he was saying. Luckily, Snape's expression of anger faded away after a few seconds, and he straightened up.

"Well, if there is anything that your little bunch of friends are good at, it is keeping secrets," Snape admitted, his tone dry. He said this while still glaring at Harry, who was fully aware of all the secret trespasses they had committed against Snape in the past.

"That's one less thing to worry about then," said Sarah, who leaned against the wall beside her in relaxation, still experiencing a great amount of relief.

"Well?" Snape pressed, still looking at the boy. The boy hadn't yet said anything in terms of denying him permission to accompany the girl to Grimmauld Place.

"Oh, right," Harry said, realizing that he hadn't given a definite response to Snape's announcement that he would be coming home with them. "If that's what you really want to do, I don't see a problem with it. I've definitely got enough room for everyone, but we'll have to let Mrs. Weasley know that you'll be coming to dinner, and-,"

"That will not be necessary," Snape cut Harry off, his words stiff.

Sarah and Harry remained silent, watching Snape.

"I will not tarnish their Christmas and their memories of their lost son by making them share Christmas dinner with the man who cut off his twin's ear," Snape explained angrily, his nostrils flaring, and his fists clenching at his sides.

"But sir, I _know_ the Weasleys," Harry spoke up in protest, his voice full of concern, "They've forgiven you, they know it was an accident, they-"

"Enough," Snape said harshly, cutting the boy off and making him fall silent. Then, he took a deep, steadying breath. Looking away, he closed his eyes. When he spoke again, it was in a tone with which Harry had rarely heard him speak; a tone of greatest remorse. "Just because they have forgiven me does not mean that I have forgiven myself."

Harry blinked at Snape. He knew that it must be a terrible feeling for someone to know that they have accidentally marred someone forever in such a way, but he had been unaware of the depths of shame which Snape apparently felt for his mistake. This was why he did not want to be anywhere near the Weasley family. He did not fear that they were still angry with him in some way, even after learning that it had been an accident in an attempt to protect a Harry who was really George; he was still angry at _himself_.

After realizing how much silence had passed, Harry broke it.

"Well, I'm sure Kreacher wouldn't mind fixing up a Christmas dinner for you," he said reassuringly. "Why don't we all get going? I'm sure he won't mind fixing us some breakfast either, and I'll bet he's worried sick about Sarah and I since we never came back. Come on," he said, getting to his feet, displaying his readiness to leave.

Sarah glanced to Snape.

"Is that alright?" she asked. Snape, who was still looking morose over his admittance of shame, nodded once, and then left the room and returned to his quarters.

Before the girl returned to his quarters to get dressed in her normal clothes, he hurried over to the chest of drawers resting against the wall. Opening the top drawer, he withdrew a small, green box tied with a silver ribbon, and slipped it into an inside pocket.

Several minutes later, all three of them were standing in the sitting room, ready to leave. Harry and Sarah had taken virtually no time at all to get ready; the only personal possessions they had brought to Snape's home had been their wands, various pocketed items, the invisibility cloak, the clothes on their backs, and the mysterious strip of paper that they had stolen from Gringotts. Sarah had decided that it was best kept with Harry for safekeeping, and so he now kept it safe in one of his inside pockets. Snape, on the other hand, had packed a modestly sized bag with some clothing and other various personal items for his stay at Grimmauld Place.

"Ready?" Snape asked, looking to the girl and then to the boy. When they both nodded, the boy began heading for the door. "Stop," Snape said loudly, "This is a Muggle neighborhood, and this house is not Unplottable. Despite the fact that the street is practically abandoned, if anyone were to be watching, they would be able to see us Disapparating. There is no need to exit the house in order to leave."

"Right," Harry said, slightly surprised in his own lack of judgment. He was so used to being able to Disapparate unseen from the top step of Grimmauld Place that he had completely forgotten that it probably wasn't the wisest thing to simply walk out the door and vanish in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood. Making a mental note to be more careful of this in the future, he took a deep breath, focused himself on Grimmauld Place, and turned on the spot.

When Harry vanished, Sarah followed his lead and Disapparated. After double checking that the door was well-locked and all the lamps extinguished, Snape followed.

When Snape appeared out of thin air on the top step of Grimmauld Place, room upon the small step became a little cramped, and Sarah, having arrived a split second earlier, nearly toppled off of it. Snape quickly grabbed her by the robes and steadied her. Harry had already brought his wand out of his pocket and tapped the door. All three of them waited as the door clicked and clanked from the other side, its series of locks coming undone.

"So, I've been thinking," Harry said conversationally as they waited for the door to finish unlocking, "What are we going to do about your eyes since the glamour won't stick?"

"That is a puzzlement," Snape admitted, looking down at the girl. She glanced back up at him, her bright red eyes full of concern.

"I was thinking that we could tell everyone that you came down with some kind of magical illness which causes something like that to happen," said Harry. The clicking and clanking had stopped, and Harry turned the door knob, pushing the door wide open to allow all three of them entry. "You know, we'll just make something up."

"Hermione would know that we're lying," Sarah said, stepping through the doorway alongside Snape. When everyone was through, Harry shut the door behind them.

As they removed their traveling cloaks and other outer layers, Harry continued racking his brains for an idea. He had thought that his idea of inventing an illness was a clever one, but Sarah was right. Hermione would immediately know that whatever illness they invented was just that; invented.

"Well, we could always blindfold you," Harry said with a laugh, unable to come up with a superior idea.

Snape rolled his eyes, and Sarah sighed in frustration.

"I'm only joking," Harry said reassuringly.

Before their conversation could continue, Kreacher had emerged from the basement kitchen and made his way into the entrance hall. As always, the house was brightly lit, spotless, and full of warmth. Snape, who had not been back to Grimmauld Place since immediately following Dumbledore's death in order to search the home's contents, was gazing about in utter astonishment. It looked like a completely different place. Instead of the old, drafty, dusty, dark and unkempt place it used to be, it now seemed like a real home. As the house-elf approached them, Snape realized that he too looked completely different. He was dressed in a clean, white towel, with a large golden locket bouncing on his chest, and looked generally well-kept. When Kreacher's huge eyes caught sight of who was standing in the doorway, they widened impossibly large, and his entire little body seemed to swell with relief and happiness.

"Master!" the elf croaked in his deep bullfrog's voice, rushing forward toward Harry and bowing low to the ground. "So concerned Kreacher has been, so concerned! Master and Miss Sarah never returned from your errand!" When he mentioned Sarah, the little elf turned to her as well, bowing. Then, he noticed the tall, dark man standing between them. Recognizing him, he also made a bow to Snape. "Sir," the elf said politely.

"Sorry we worried you, Kreacher," Harry said, "Something, er, came up unexpectedly. We've been staying with Professor Snape for the past few days."

"Very good, master, very good," the house-elf said, bowing low to Harry again. "Is there anything Kreacher can do?"

"Actually, we haven't eaten breakfast, if you don't mind," Harry replied.

"Not at all, master, not at all!" the elf croaked, straightening up. He looked excited beyond words. Harry guessed that he had probably been quite bored in their absence, especially since he had been expecting them back shortly.

The elf beckoned all of them to join him in the kitchen as he prepared breakfast. Harry and Sarah seated themselves across from each other at the end of the long table, and Snape seated himself at the table's head, between them. Before they knew it, the table was laden with more food than any of them knew what to do with. As they began eating, they continued their discussion over what to do about Sarah's eyes.

"Well, I've never seen any of the Weasleys before except for Ron, Ginny, and George," Sarah said between forkfuls of Kreacher's delicious scrambled eggs, "We could just tell them not to mention it and hope that the rest of them don't notice."

Snape, who had been sipping his coffee, set his mug down on the table.

"Red eyes, unfortunately, are not something likely to go unnoticed," he spoke. He then lifted the mug to his lips again.

Sarah turned to Harry who, while thoroughly engrossed in his scrumptious breakfast, was still listening intently. Harry looked over to Snape.

"What if we tell them she's a Metamorphmagus, and she likes her eyes that particular color?" he asked.

In response, Snape shook his head slowly.

"Also unconvincing," Snape said over the rim of his mug, "They are extremely rare, and she would be unable to alter any facet of her appearance if asked to do so."

"Good point," Harry said, turning back to his breakfast. "I guess we don't want to make it _too_ big of a lie."

"Hermione's not going to be there," Sarah pointed out, "Maybe we _could_ tell the Weasleys I've got some kind of illness and hope that they buy it."

Harry swallowed a large mouthful of eggs and sausage.

"We could do that," he agreed, "But Hermione will know that something is amiss as soon as she gets here, and then we'll have to explain."

"Maybe we _should_ explain," Sarah said.

"I think you're right," Harry replied, reaching for his pumpkin juice and bringing it closer to him. "I've been thinking, and I think we need to tell them what's been going on. It's getting kind of serious, and I think they deserve to know."

Snape lowered his coffee mug again.

"_Kind of_ serious? You could have been _killed_," Snape groused, smirking at the boy in an irritated fashion.

"I only meant that something seems to be going on," Harry clarified, "The Ministry seems to be hiding something, and Fenrir Greyback is alive. I think that's pretty big news that they deserve to know."

"Speaking of which," Snape spoke up, reaching inside his robes. After a moment of searching, he removed a small container of the painful, foul-smelling ointment and set it on the table between all of them. Harry and Sarah groaned simultaneously.

"I was hoping you had forgotten to pack that," Harry admitted. Sarah laughed, and the corner of Snape's mouth twitched.

* * *

After breakfast, Sarah and Harry were treated to more painful sessions with the healing ointment. The rest of the day was spent in contemplation about what exactly they were going to tell their friends about what had happened, and how. Also, a large portion of the afternoon had been spent in the study thinking up names for Sarah's fictional, mysterious, eye-color-changing illness. After much deliberation, they had finally settled on "Occulopigmentitis", Harry's idea, which had caused both he and Sarah to burst out laughing at its suggestion. It ended up sounding much more convincing than any of their other ideas, however, and so they decided to go with it. It was, as Harry noted, convincing-sounding enough to sound real, yet confusing-sounding enough to deter any further inquiry into the nature of the illness. Snape had spent this imaginative session in silence, watching the boy and the girl struggle to come up with ideas; although, more than once, Sarah was sure she had caught him smirking in an amused way at their antics. When she would look his way, he would coolly smooth out his expression again.

When evening came, both Sarah and Harry had dressed themselves in some nicer robes for dinner. Sarah was standing in her makeshift bedroom, the study, with Snape, who was seated upon the sofa that served as her bed, with a book open in his lap. It was now dark outside, but the brightly burning fire, as well as the room's lamps, kept the study glowingly lit and warm. There were large, white flakes drifting lazily past the windows; it was snowing outside again. Sarah was standing at one of the windows, gazing outside at the snow, when Harry knocked twice on the open door's frame and stuck his head into the room. Both she and Snape turned toward him.

"Ready to go?" Harry asked, stepping into the room. It was clear that he had given the best of his efforts to taming his perpetually untidy hair, but his hair had already betrayed him, and looked only marginally less untidy than it usually did.

"Yep," Sarah said excitedly with a smile. She had been greatly looking forward to this. It would be the first time that she had ever really spent Christmas dinner with people who felt like family to her, even though she had not yet met most of them. She approached Snape for a goodbye, but before she reached him, he closed the book in his lap and rose from the couch.

"I've already told Kreacher you'll be staying for dinner," Harry said as he turned to Snape, "It seems like he's really excited to be cooking a Christmas dinner. I think it's been decades since he's gotten to. You should be in for quite a meal."

Snape nodded his thanks to the boy, and then spoke.

"Before you leave, may I have a word with the girl?" he asked.

"Sure," Harry said, but he did not move. Snape glared at him, but Harry gazed back with an expression of polite interest.

"_Alone?_" Snape clarified loudly, his eyes narrowing at the clueless boy.

"Oh, right," Harry said, blinking rapidly and turning away, mildly embarrassed. "I'll be waiting downstairs when you're ready, Sarah."

When Harry had left the room, Snape turned back to the girl before him. She was looking up at him, her strangely-colored eyes brimming with curiosity, but she remained silent.

"Hold out your hand," Snape told her. He watched as the girl obediently held up her right palm. As she did, the large sleeve of her robe slid down her arm, revealing the thin wrapping of bandages that concealed the strange mark upon her wrist.

"Merry Christmas," Snape said, withdrawing something from inside his robes. He quickly placed it into her open palm; a small, green box tied neatly with a silver ribbon. "I wanted to give you this."

The girl smiled brightly, but then suddenly looked extremely crestfallen as she gazed at the tiny box in her hand.

"What is the matter?" Snape asked, his voice soft and kind.

"I haven't got anything to give you," Sarah said, sounding ashamed. She was blushing deeply, and looked away from him, toward the fire.

"You have already given me quite a lot," Snape reassured her, stepping closer to her and bringing his right hand to her chin. He gently turned her head toward him and tilted it upward, meeting her eyes. "A gift is not necessary. Besides, I imagine it is difficult to find the time to do holiday shopping between breaking into secure institutions and fighting bloody battles in the middle of the night. Plus, I am difficult to buy for, honestly."

His momentary lapse into humor made the girl smile again.

"Open it," he urged her gently, taking his hand away from her chin.

Very carefully, Sarah untied the silver ribbon and let it fall to the floor. Opening the box, she found a beautiful platinum ring in the form of a coiled snake, its tiny emerald eyes glinting brightly in the firelight. She smiled again as she gazed at it, and then rushed forward to wrap her arms around the man standing before her.

"It's beautiful," she whispered as they embraced.

"I am glad you like it," Snape said as they stepped apart again. "I felt that your wardrobe was far too saturated with Gryffindor apparel, and could use a touch of Slytherin. It is small and discreet, so as to not arouse the ire of your adoptive housemates."

"I love it," Sarah said, removing the ring from its box and slipping it onto her left ring finger. When she did, the corner of Snape's lips curled into a tiny smile.

"You should be going," he told her, "You do not want to be late." The girl nodded once, and then leaned up to kiss him softly on the lips. Then, she gazed up at him for several silent seconds, and he knew that she was fighting down the urge to ask him, again, if leaving him here alone on Christmas was really alright. "Go on," he insisted, turning back toward the sofa bed and sitting down upon it, opening his book once more. "When you return, we shall all have loads of Christmas fun explaining my presence to your friends," he said sarcastically.

Sarah laughed and leaned down to hug him where he sat.

"Merry Christmas, Severus," she said.

"Merry Christmas."

After their goodbyes, Sarah made her way out into the hall and down the stairs toward the door. As she passed the door to the basement kitchen, she hesitated slightly at the delicious aroma wafting up. This did not go unnoticed by Harry, who was standing in the doorway, wearing his traveling cloak, and waiting for her. He smiled.

"Don't worry," he said quietly, "Kreacher is a great cook, but Mrs. Weasley is too. Come on."

Once Sarah had donned the large, black traveling cloak which used to belong to Snape, she and Harry stepped out onto the top step of Grimmauld Place. Once they were outside and the door was shut, Harry tapped it with his wand, causing it to lock itself again. He held out his arm to Sarah, who had never before been to the Burrow, and therefore felt much more comfortable making her first trip there by Side-Along Apparition.

"You're going to love the Burrow," Harry said as Sarah locked her arm with his. "Ready?"

After Sarah had nodded once, Harry closed his eyes, focused on the Burrow, and turned on the spot, pulling both of them into the crushing blackness.

Mere seconds later, they rematerialized, shin-deep in snow. Sarah glanced upward immediately. They must be somewhere out in the country, she thought, because she could not recall any time her life when she had seen the stars so numerous or so clear. The moon, nearly half waxed, was shining brightly.

"Look," Harry said, pointing ahead of them.

Sarah tilted her gaze downward, and her eyes fell upon the most peculiar-looking building she had ever seen. They were separated from it by a snowy field, and it rose up in front of them, six stories tall. Sarah's mouth dropped open slightly as she examined it. It appeared as if it were built extremely haphazardly, and she had no idea how it could possibly be standing on its own. As she examined the house, Harry was watching her, chuckling softly at her reaction.

"It's perfectly safe," Harry explained, smiling and urging her forward toward the house with him. "It's held up by magic."

"Of course," Sarah said sarcastically, trudging through the snow at Harry's side.

The Burrow seemed to grow warmer and more welcoming with every step they took toward it. Bright, warm light was shining out of nearly all of its windows, especially on the ground floor, where a great deal of commotion could be heard. There were voices talking and laughing, the clanking of cookware, and the clinking of glasses and bottles. Sarah's eyes widened as she grew closer to the house; it seemed as if a small crowd of people were already inside the home, which did not look overly accommodating for a large amount of guests.

"How many people are coming, exactly?" she asked, her eyes glued to the bright kitchen windows, watching as various unfamiliar red-haired people passed in and out of view.

"Let's see," said Harry thoughtfully, bringing his hands up in front of him to count, "There's me, you, Ginny, Ron," with each name he mentioned, one of his fingers sprouted up from his fists, "George, Percy, Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Mr. Weasley, and Mrs. Weasley." Before he had said Mrs. Weasley's name, he had run out of fingers on which to count. "Eleven," he said finally, "Twelve if you want to get technical, since Fleur's expecting," he finished with a laugh.

"That's a lot of people," Sarah said, her voice meek. She had suddenly become slightly nervous about spending the holiday with a large family, most of whom she did not know.

"Don't worry," Harry reassured her as they approached the front door. "They're just about the nicest family you'll ever want to meet."

As Harry knocked loudly on the front door, Sarah took a deep breath. Various voices could be heard shouting out from within the home.

"That must be Harry with your friend," a loud male voice shouted. "Who will get the door? I'm busy with these parsnips."

"I'll get it,"

"Don't be silly, dear, I'll get it,"

"No, mum, I'll-,"

Sarah was watching the unopened door, eyes wide. When the door finally swung open, both she and Harry were bathed in the warmth and light from within. Standing in the doorway was Mrs. Weasley, who was beaming at Harry instantly. Beside her was Ron, and crowded behind both of them was Ginny, who was standing on the balls of her feet in order to see their new guests over her brother's shoulder.

"Harry, dear," said Mrs. Weasley warmly, rushing forward to embrace Harry in a tight hug. She patted the back of his untidy black hair as she held him. "I'm so glad you came, Merry Christmas." Breaking her hug with Harry, she then turned to Sarah, who was already looking quite uncomfortable. Ron stepped up to shake Harry's hand and give him a brief, masculine hug.

"And this must be Sarah," Mrs. Weasley said with all of the warmth with which she had greeted Harry. Sarah's discomfort was immediately dispelled when Mrs. Weasley stepped forward and embraced her in a hug full of motherly love. "Merry Christmas dear," she said. "Come on inside, you don't want to catch cold," she said, stepping back from Sarah.

Both Sarah and Harry were about to step inside when Ron spoke up.

"Your eyes," he said thickly, the surprise evident in his voice, "What's happened to them?"

Sarah instantly became slightly flushed, and Harry clenched his teeth. _Of all the times for Ron to notice the tiniest details,_ he groaned loudly inside his mind.

Mrs. Weasley, who had been moving aside to allow them entry, was now standing quite still. She had not noticed the strange color of the girl's eyes as she stood on the darkened doorstep, and was now gazing at them with a look of mixed curiosity, shock, and fear. Ron was also wearing a similar expression, as was Ginny, who was peeking over his shoulder.

Sarah seemed to have frozen in terror. When she did not speak for a few moments, Harry cleared his throat loudly to jar her back into reality.

"Oh," she said instantly, "Occulopigmentitis."

Ron, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley's looks of confusion intensified, but the fear and shock had faded from their faces. Sarah, who found this immensely reassuring, spoke up again.

"Magical illness," she continued, "Very uncommon, causes eye color to change spontaneously, not contagious at all," she rattled off.

Ron and Mrs. Weasley continued to look confused, but seemed to accept her explanation. Ginny, however, looked skeptical.

"I'm sorry to hear that, dear," said Mrs. Weasley sincerely, pouting a little, "What color are they normally?"

"Brown," Sarah replied automatically, "Dark brown."

"Well I do hope they get back to normal soon," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling, "Now come in before you catch cold, both of you," she said, stepping aside and shooing Ron and Ginny aside as well to allow Harry and Sarah inside.

Ron still looked genuinely confused and could not seem to look away from Sarah's strange new eye color. Ginny shot Harry an accusatory look, but said nothing further when Harry leaned in close to her, kissed her chastely on the cheek, and whispered "We'll explain later," softly into her ear.

In the minutes that followed, Sarah was speedily led about the packed kitchen by Mrs. Weasley and introduced to everyone present. Luckily, Mrs. Weasley had taken it upon herself to hastily explain Sarah's strange illness to each new family member as they were introduced in order to save Sarah what she thought was embarrassment over her condition. Harry used this time to give a more thorough greeting to Ginny after their time apart, during which Ron looked away from them pointedly and mumbled something about Hermione.

Reaching the end of the table, the only two people Sarah had not yet been introduced to was a badly scarred, red-haired man, and the stunningly beautiful woman seated next to him. Mrs. Weasley, her arm securely around Sarah's shoulders, led her over to where they sat.

"Bill, Fleur, this is Sarah, her eyes are normally brown," she said casually smiling down at her son and his wife.

"Er, nice to meet you, Sarah," said Bill, a bit bewildered at his mother's strange introduction of the girl, but smiling nonetheless. He extended his right hand to Sarah, who shook it firmly with her own.

"Enchanté," Fleur smiled, extending her delicate hand toward Sarah next, who shook it more gently. Fleur, several months pregnant, was not yet overly large, but was definitely showing.

"Bill works for Gringotts as a curse-breaker, did you know?" Mrs. Weasley asked Sarah conversationally.

"Wow, that sounds pretty neat," Sarah replied, turning back toward Bill and giving her best effort to mask the fresh nervousness in her voice at the pronouncement that this particular Weasley child was employed at the tightly-secured bank into which she and Harry had just broken into.

Harry, who was now looking over toward Sarah as she conversed with Bill, could not help but notice how frazzled Bill looked, no doubt because of what had occurred at the bank earlier in the week. Mrs. Weasley had stepped away from them, and was now busy with her Wizarding Wireless set, tuning in Celestina Warbeck, and causing Fleur to grimace. Harry was having a difficult time taking his eyes off of Fleur who, in her state of pregnancy, looked positively radiant, and was almost, quite literally, glowing. Ginny corrected this by pulling Harry by the arm toward the sitting room for a game of exploding snap. Ron followed them, and Harry in turn beckoned Sarah over to play the game, bailing her out of an obviously uncomfortable and awkward discussion over bank affairs in the wake of the well-publicized break-in. Although, after being forced to learn how to play a game which involved exploding cards, Sarah thought that she much would have preferred to continue her nerve-racking conversation with Bill.

Christmas dinner at the Burrow was, without a doubt, the best Christmas that Sarah had ever experienced. Despite several teary-eyed remembrances of Fred, the atmosphere was generally one of holiday cheer. Harry had been more than correct about what a good cook Mrs. Weasley was; Sarah could not remember an occasion on which she had managed to eat more food in one sitting. All of them talked, joked, and laughed boisterously. Their laughter and cheer filled the cozy home with just as much warmth as the large, brightly-burning fire in the sitting room. Sarah, despite her initial unfamiliarity with most of the Weasley family, felt warmly accepted and more than welcome among them by the end of the evening. This alone filled her with more happiness than most things ever could. If only briefly, she felt as if she were part of a real family. Various Weasleys were constantly pushing extra helpings onto her plate despite her pleas that she was full beyond belief, and generously refilling her goblet of mead whenever its level would dwindle even slightly. George, who was seated next to her, would frequently whisper things of an extremely humorous nature into her ear. In her laughter, she had to be clapped on the back several times as she ate.

As the evening was winding down, Sarah found herself lounging in the sitting room with Harry and the other Weasley children, save for Ron and Ginny, who had gone upstairs to their rooms to finish packing trunks for their stay at Grimmauld Place for the rest of the winter holidays. Sarah was stretched out over the entirety of a large, cushy armchair, feeling full and sated beyond belief. Harry, Bill, and George were playing another game of exploding snap, while Fleur looked on in amusement. Percy was engaged in reading his copy of _The Evening Prophet_ near the fire, and Charlie sat next to him, downing a healthy measure of Firewhiskey. A few minutes and a few exploding cards later, Ron and Ginny thundered down the steps into the kitchen with their trunks. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who had been busy tidying up the rest of the kitchen, turned to them. They gave their two youngest a loving farewell, during which Ginny smiled brightly, and Ron turned scarlet, looking embarrassed. Harry and Sarah stood, facing their friends.

"Ready to go, then?" Harry asked, eyeing the trunks that Ron and Ginny had packed.

When Ron and Ginny affirmed their readiness, Sarah and Harry made their way through the sitting room and into the kitchen.

"Thanks so much," Harry said, leaning into another tight, motherly hug with Mrs. Weasley. "Merry Christmas."

"Not at all, dear, not at all," Mrs. Weasley dismissed his thanks, patting the back of his hair they embraced. "Merry Christmas."

Sarah came forward next, smiling at Mrs. Weasley, who embraced her tightly as well.

"So nice to have you dear, I do hope you enjoyed yourself," she said as she hugged the girl to her, patting the back of her long, straight hair, just as she had done with Harry's, and with her own children. "And I do hope your eyes get back to normal soon."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, really, this was the best Christmas I've ever-,"

"It's nothing dear, it's nothing," Mrs. Weasley assured her, patting her on the side of the cheek affectionately.

After they had bid farewell to the rest of the Weasley family, Harry, Sarah, Ginny, and Ron all stood on the doorstep, ready to leave, and receiving final hugs and handshakes from various Weasleys. After promising Mrs. Weasley that they would spend the rest of their holidays carefully and responsibly, they were on their way, trudging back across the snowy field away from the Burrow to a point from which they could safely Disapparate. Harry had taken to carrying Ginny's trunk, and Ron dragged his along behind him carelessly.

When they were a safe distance away from the house, Ginny could not contain herself any longer, and spoke up quite loudly.

"Are we about to discover the true meaning of _Occulopigmentitis_?" she asked, putting a sort of flourish on the name of the fake illness, illustrating the fact that she had not, for a second, believed that it had been legitimate. As she spoke, she noticed that Sarah shifted her neck to the side nervously, and Harry cleared his throat softly.

"Oh yeah," Ron spoke up as they walked along, recalling the strange alteration in Sarah's eye color, "How did you get it?" he asked, making it evident that he, unlike Ginny, had fallen for the line. He glanced at Sarah, even though he was unable to see her eyes properly in the darkness that surrounded them.

"I'm afraid that there's quite a lot to explain, actually," Harry admitted, his tone solemn. Luckily, he was able to avoid any further inquisition from his fiery girlfriend by reaching the point from which he could safely Disapparate. He turned on the spot and disappeared.

His three companions all followed suit, arriving together on the front step of Grimmauld Place, which had become quite cramped. Struggling to fit themselves as well as their trunks onto the step, neither Ron nor Ginny raised any further questions at the moment. Harry, having arrived a second before everyone else, had already tapped his wand to the door, which was almost finished unlocking itself.

When Harry swung the door open before them, all three piled inside gratefully, escaping the cold night air. They were immediately assaulted not only with the warm, welcoming heat radiating from within the home, but with a tantalizing aroma which was oddly similar to the scent of the Christmas dinner which had filled the Burrow earlier in the evening. All of them kicked off their shoes and shrugged off their traveling wear as Harry shut the door behind them.

"Blimey, that smells good," Ron spoke up first, unable as always to ignore his stomach, even after having consumed a generously portioned meal. "Who is Kreacher cooking for, anyway?" Ginny, having formed the same question within her mind, glanced to Harry, but Harry did not meet her eyes.

Sarah and Harry remained tentatively silent, but Ron and Ginny soon had their question answered when someone completely and utterly unexpected strode into the entrance hall from the basement kitchen:

Severus Snape.

Ginny looked first to Harry, and then to Snape, with an expression of deepest confusion; Harry merely looked sheepish and glanced away from the both of them. Sarah, with conscious effort, had stopped herself from rushing forward to give the man before her a hug, and Ron stood there, mouth agape, looking dumbfounded. Obviously not having expected to find the four of them at the door on his way up from dinner, Snape first looked slightly surprised, and then slightly bemused at the expressions in front of him. After a moment, he crossed his arms, content to stare at them, knowing that an inevitable explanation of some sort must soon follow.

"What's _he_ doing here?" Ron spoke up at last with his usual lack of finesse.

Harry, Sarah, _and_ Snape had all simultaneously opened their mouths to speak, but all three were interrupted when a loud knock on the door sounded. The situation momentarily diffused, they closed their mouths and immediately looked to the door. Harry, who had not yet re-locked it, reached out for the knob, turned it, and swung the door open to reveal a flustered-looking Hermione in her Muggle winter clothing, complete with puffy jacket, mittens, and wool cap. When the door was fully open, she stepped inside, hugging Ron. A large trunk was lying on the top step behind her.

"Merry Christmas!" she announced, sounding a little out of breath. "Convinced my folks to let me come a bit early, seeing as they're off to ski tomorrow anyhow. I hope it's not any trouble," she said quickly, glancing around at her friends who were all looking slightly aghast. She did a bit of a double take when she caught Sarah's red eyes, but looked markedly more surprised when she caught sight of Snape standing in the entrance hall before all of them. "What's he doing here?" she asked before she could stop herself, and although she sounded much less rude than Ron had, she still looked extremely embarrassed after having asked this.

"That's what _I_ wanted to know!" Ron reiterated, looking from Hermione back to Snape, who smirked.

Several moments of tangibly awkward silence passed, before all eyes in the room turned toward Harry for an explanation.

"Let's all go into the study," he said quietly, motioning up the stairs. "We need to talk."

It was almost two hours later when Harry and Sarah finished explaining everything that had happened to them, although Sarah let Harry do most of the talking. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all seated upon the sofa which served as Sarah's makeshift bed, watching Harry as he paced back and forth feverishly, telling their tale in an animated fashion. Snape was seated in an armchair, quite still, his fingers clasped across his lap as he listened to the boy, and Sarah was seated in a chair opposite him, mostly watching the reactions of her friends as Harry explained everything to them. Harry still, however, managed to delicately skate over the issue of her involvement with Snape, despite the fact that Hermione and Ginny already knew of it.

"And so I knew I couldn't very well take us to St. Mungo's or Hogwarts," Harry continued after having explained their fierce battle with Fenrir Greyback and the mysterious people who had ambushed them on Archer Crescent, "So I brought us to Sna- Sev-," Harry stuttered, still struggling with what exactly to call the man; anything other than simply _Snape_ still felt distinctly strange and awkward, "Professor Snape's house. He saved our lives, and we've been staying there until today, recovering."

Harry then fell silent, watching his friends. Sarah gazed at them too, anxious about how they would react to everything that had just been told to them. Ginny looked quite pale, as did Hermione, despite her previous knowledge of Harry and Sarah having broken into the Ministry, which she had dutifully kept to herself. Ron's mouth was agape, and he looked almost as if he were going to be sick at the news that Fenrir Greyback was still out there somewhere, alive.

"Blimey," was all Ron could mutter for several minutes.

"Can we see it?" Hermione asked at last, looking toward Sarah. Her voice was extremely quiet, almost a whisper. "The mark?"

Sarah stood, quickly unraveling the bandages wrapped around her wrist which concealed the mark. Stepping over toward where her friends sat on the sofa, she rolled up her sleeve, exposing the strange mark to the eyes of her friends. All of them examined it for a moment, and then looked up into her strange, red eyes, which caused her to look away in embarrassment. Perhaps her friends would fear her now, after they heard what she had done on that night, and learning everything else that they had just learned. She blinked hard.

"We're sorry," Hermione said at once, her voice sincere. "We didn't mean to upset-,"

"It's alright," Sarah said quickly, moving back to the arm chair in which she had been sitting, and sat down once again, wrapping her wrist.

"What does it mean?" Hermione asked. As soon as she had, she could not help notice that Harry and Sarah looked slightly disappointed; perhaps they had been hoping all along that she might somehow have some kind of answer for them. In her desperation, she looked to Snape.

"At the moment, we do not know," he said, his frustration at this fact evident in his tone.

"That's about everything, really," Harry spoke up. "We just felt that you lot deserved to know what's been going on."

"What are you going to do next?" Ron asked, the first intelligible words that he had uttered since the beginning of Harry's long, intricate explanation.

"We're not sure at the moment," Harry admitted, grimacing inwardly; he always did hate not having a definite plan of action. "But I think it's about time we all got to bed, it's getting pretty late."

After several nods of agreement, all occupants of the study were on their feet, stretching and yawning after their long audience. After bidding each other a good night, and a Merry Christmas, they retired.

* * *

It was a while later when Sarah lay awake in bed beside Snape. After everyone had left the study earlier, Snape had transfigured the sofa into a bed large enough for both of them to share. The door to the hallway outside was now closed, and the fireplace was burning lowly. Sarah lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, having pushed most of the covers off of her in discomfort as she tossed and turned restlessly. She could tell that Snape was fast asleep due to his deep, even breathing, but she lay awake, unable to relax.

Spending Christmas with the Weasley family had filled her with happiness and joy beyond measure. It was the first time that she had spent the holiday with anything that came close to qualifying as a real family. Unfortunately, it had also filled her with a great sense of sadness and longing. The Weasley family had accepted her warmly into their midst and made her feel at home, but as welcome as she had felt, it would never change the fact that it was not _her_ family. _Her_ family, which until very recently, she had believed to be dead and gone long ago, something she simply had never known, and would never know as long as she lived. Instead, her family was _alive._

_Alive... without her..._

The more she thought about it, the more it raised burning questions inside her. She could not escape them as they raced through her thoughts, keeping her hopelessly awake. What had happened in the past to make things the way they were now? How had _she_ ended up in America, so very far away from them? Had _they_ given her up? Perhaps they had somehow found out what she was and, being fearful of their daughter the witch, sent her away. And if not, who had done this? _Why_?

One question burned brightest and hottest of all; despite her nagging doubts, did they somehow know of her?

Could she go back to them? If she did, would she finally be able to have the life that she had always wanted?

Completely overcome with these thoughts, she sighed softly. There was a deep, persistent ache inside of her that all of these questions were creating.

There was only one way to fix it. There was only one way to find out.

Slowly and silently sliding out of bed, she dressed extremely quietly, careful not to wake Snape. After she was fully dressed in her normal attire, she slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. Once she was out in the hallway, she hesitated for a moment, listening intently for any sounds of disturbance in the room she had just left that might indicate Snape having woken up during her departure. After several moments of silence, she was satisfied that he was still asleep, and she slowly tiptoed up the stairs, making her way to the room in which she knew Harry and Ginny slept; his godfather's old bedroom.

Reaching the door, she opened it as quietly as she possibly could. When it was open a crack, she listened inside. She could hear both Harry and Ginny breathing slowly and evenly. They were asleep. Pushing the door open more widely, she found the room to be dark. Drawing out her wand, she lit it as dimly as she could manage, carefully scanning the room before her. It was only a moment before she found what she was seeking; there, draped over a chair in the corner of the room nearest the door, was Harry's invisibility cloak. Putting her wandlight out and taking only a few silent steps into the room, she reached out and grabbed the cloak, slowly backed out of the room, and shut the door. Just as she had done when she left the study, she lingered for a moment to make sure that she had not woken them. When no sound came, she tiptoed her way down the staircase toward the front door.

Despite the danger, this was the only way she could answer some of her questions. She knew she _had_ to do it, but she would at least be as safe as possible about it, which was why she had taken Harry's cloak. She was sure he would not mind her borrowing it for a little while. She would not risk putting her friend in any more danger by asking him to accompany her. She would go alone. With the cloak, she should be perfectly safe.

Before she reached the front door, Kreacher suddenly appeared before her in the hallway, having emerged from the basement kitchen. She started, gasping slightly, surprised by the elf.

"Oh, Kreacher," Sarah whispered, "You scared me."

"Sorry miss," the elf said, giving her a low bow, "It was not Kreacher's intention. Having trouble sleeping? Is there anything Kreacher can do?"

"Actually, Kreacher, I'm going to go for a walk to clear my head," Sarah whispered back, realizing something thing that she had not previously thought of. She had never seen anyone but Harry lock or unlock the door to Grimmauld Place, and he always used his wand to do so. She was instantly unsure if she would be able to unlock it herself, or if attempting to do so would trigger some sort of alarm. "But there _is_ something you could do for me, Kreacher."

"Anything, miss," the elf said, bowing again.

"Just open the door for me, and don't lock it. I'll need to be able to come back in, obviously." Sarah told the elf.

"Of course miss," the elf said, waving a tiny hand toward the front door, which began clicking and clanking as its series of locks came undone.

Sarah clenched her teeth and winced slightly as the door made noises which, in the relative silence of the hallway, sounded akin to cannon fire. When the noise had stopped, she stared back up the darkened hallway which led upstairs. No stirring came. Hopefully it hadn't woken anyone up.

"Thanks, Kreacher," Sarah said, swinging the invisibility cloak over her shoulders. "I'll be back in a while."

With this, Sarah slipped on her boots and stepped out of the door, and the elf closed it behind her. She lingered for a moment, but did not hear the elf lock the door. Satisfied, she fully covered herself with the cloak. Closing her eyes and focusing very hard on Archer Crescent, she turned on the spot and Disapparated, feeling a now-familiar jerk behind her navel as she was pulled into the crushing blackness.

When her lungs expanded back into reality, she immediately took a moment to be sure that she was still concealed by the cloak. After being sure that she was still completely invisible, she began making her way down the lane. Archer Crescent looked much the same as it had on the night when she had first come here, and there was a thin, fresh coating of snow upon the ground, making the snow that had already lain there appear new once again. Many of the Muggle houses were gaily decorated with holiday lights which blinked and glittered in a rainbow of different colors which shone onto the snow. The street, thankfully, was already clear of snow, no doubt thanks to Muggle snow plows. She kept to the street as she walked along so that she would not leave a trail of disembodied footprints behind her.

When she reached the house numbered Twelve, she took a deep, steadying breath. She also took a slow, careful scan of her surroundings. Confident that she was alone, she strode forward, making her way up the house's short drive, and up the walk to the front door. Despite the lateness of the hour, the house was still lit brightly from within. At least _someone_ had to be awake, she thought. When she reached the door, she glanced over both shoulders quickly, just to be sure that she wasn't being followed. When she saw no one, she removed the cloak and stuffed it unceremoniously inside her robes. Without a second thought, she pushed the small button which rang the bell inside of the home.

For several moments, nothing happened. Just as she was beginning to think that perhaps no one was home, she heard footsteps approaching the doorway from within. This was it.

The door swung open. Standing in the doorway was a tall, thickly-built, kind-looking man with dark brown eyes, dressed in a jumper and slacks. At his side was a woman who was slightly shorter than Sarah, with hazel eyes and long, straight brown hair. She was also dressed in a festive jumper, and wore bluejeans.

Sarah looked up at them, her eyes frantic as they darted between the man and woman before her, desperately searching for something, for some kind of recognition, some slight inkling of realization or knowing.

Nothing came.

Instead, the man and woman stared confusedly at the strangely dressed girl on their doorstep.

"Yes?" the man spoke up at last, his voice accented in a way similar to Harry's, "Can we help you?"

A deep, stabbing pain shot through somewhere inside Sarah's chest. She might have died at that moment and not have cared; her own parents did not recognize her.

"Sorry," she said mechanically, trying to mask the pain in her voice, "Wrong house."

With this, she spun on her heel and began marching away from the door as confidently as possible, but when she heard it slam shut behind her, she collapsed to her knees on the snowy walk, shaking, hot tears welling up in her eyes. Despite her pain, she still had enough sense to pull the invisibility cloak out of her robes and drape it over herself once again, making her invisible as she continued to kneel on the cold pavement of the walkway, sobbing quietly into her sleeves.

A moment later, she froze and silenced herself when she heard a footstep extremely close to her. For several moments she remained as still and as silent as she possibly could. She stared down at the pavement, too frightened to gaze up at her surroundings, afraid that somehow, someone would be able to see her if she moved. Scathing thoughts raced through her mind. _You were an idiot to come here alone,_ she hissed at herself inside her head, _No one knows you're here, and now somebody might have just seen you, somebody who was waiting for you to show up here again._

As if reading her thoughts, a voice spoke out of the darkness at her.

"I don't need to see you to know you're there," the voice drawled. "I can smell your _blood_."

Nearly paralyzed with fear, it took a great deal of effort for Sarah to raise her head and look up in front of her. Instead of finding a wand pointed squarely at her face, she found a blade.

Before her stood a tall, slim figure, entirely cloaked in black. Nothing of the figure was visible except the long, slightly curved sword pointed squarely between her eyes, only mere inches away, and the pale hand which clutched its long hilt. Sarah was frozen in terror.

"Didn't you hear me?" the voice asked impatiently, "I _said_," the figure drew its blade back to strike, "I know you're _THERE!_"

The figure slashed its blade through the air toward Sarah, who dove aside into the snow-covered lawn. The figure's hooded head followed her movement, even before she fell into the snow, making it clear that somehow, they could indeed sense where she was, even under the protection of Harry's cloak.

The figure moved to strike again, and Sarah immediately leapt to her feet, ripping the cloak off as she went, allowing her to sprint at full speed. She stuffed the cloak away and withdrew her wand, but continued running out of sheer terror.

She was stopped dead in her tracks as she felt a hot, slashing pain across her back, causing her to immediately stumble down onto the pavement of the street, hitting it hard. Her sides were already feeling warm; she was bleeding. Trembling, she struggled to right herself, standing on shaky legs, and turning back toward her attacker. Even though the figure was standing several yards away from her, they had somehow managed to slash her with their sword as if they had been within striking distance. Knowing full well that she was probably no match for whoever this mysterious person was, she raised her wand toward them anyway.

"That's more like it," the figure said, raising its blade to meet her wand. "I wanted a rematch after last time," the figure spoke, twirling its blade deftly in its hand, causing it to glint in the moonlight, "Didn't bring this last time, you see, since we weren't supposed to use much force against you," the figure stopped twirling its blade, pointing it square at Sarah once again, "But now I'm allowed to do whatever the hell I want to you as long as it makes you come quietly."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Sarah spoke defiantly, even though her voice was shaking slightly. The painful, searing slash across her lower back was making it difficult to even stand. Her wand was still pointed squarely at the figure.

"That's what I was hoping you'd say!" the figure shouted maniacally, slashing its sword toward Sarah in a graceful arc.

Sarah was momentarily confused when the figure did not approach any closer and merely swung its sword at her, but she painfully realized that this must not be any ordinary sword when she was slashed across the shoulder in the same way that her back had been. When the figure raised its sword again, she moved to defend herself, and soon they were dueling, with Sarah somehow managing to defend herself against the figure's strange and vicious onslaught.

"_Stupefy_!" the figure shouted, and a jet of red light burst forth from the very blade of its sword.

Sarah barely managed to deflect the spell, and the force of it knocked her back several feet where she fell to one knee, watching as the figure raised its sword again. She gritted her teeth; she was in extreme pain, and bleeding fairly copiously. She had no idea how long she would be able to keep this up. Either she would die now, or she would surrender and let this mysterious person take her wherever they would. At least then she might get some of her questions answered.

_No. __**No!**_ A voice shot through her head as soon as she had these thoughts, forcing her back to her feet despite her extreme pain. She immediately felt as if something hot were boiling up from within her, something that would not allow her to die. Her heart began pumping even harder, and the agony from her fresh wounds somehow began to feel duller and more distant, allowing her to think clearly through the pain.

"Haven't had enough, yet?" the figure spat, slashing its sword toward her again.

This time, Sarah deflected the invisible slashing spell with ease.

_Wait a moment... spell..._

A sudden realization shot through her mind. Her attacker _did_ have a wand.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Sarah shouted. An arc of white light struck the hilt of the figure's sword, and it jerked out of its hand quickly, but stopped midair, and was deftly swung back into its owner's hand. Sarah's eyes were wide in shock.

"Sorry, girl," the figure said lowly, rolling up its cloak sleeve a little; the sword was literally chained to a shackle-like bracer on its arm. "That won't work with me."

Before Sarah could react, more spells were being slung at her, and she was struck forcefully back onto the ground. As soon as she hit the pavemen

t, her pain became evident to her once again. She trembled as she struggled to right herself into a sitting position while the figure, still standing several yards away from her, cackled.

"Not so tough anymore, are you?" the figure laughed, "What's the matter, lost your flair from the other night?"

The figure slashed its sword again, striking Sarah while she was down, sending her tumbling down the pavement several feet before she came to a stop. As she went, her grip on her wand was lost; it flew from her hand and rolled uselessly away from her, coming to rest in the curb of the street, far beyond her reach.

"Come with me and we can stop this foolishness," the figure spat again, its sword still pointed squarely at the girl.

Sarah winced, but not from her pain; now that she no longer held her wand, the strange feeling was boiling up hotly inside of her again but more intensely, screaming for survival, making the severe pain of her fresh wounds seem once again like dull, distant aches. Instead of clearing her head this time, however, her mind seemed to be buzzing with this strange feeling, blocking out all other thought aside from self-preservation. She could dimly and faintly register the searing feeling coursing through her, and it was strange, like fear, anger, confusion and rage all rolled into one. Her eyes felt hot; perhaps she was crying? She no longer knew. This time, without trembling, she righted herself and regained her feet, facing her attacker.

As the girl stood again, the figure straightened up, apparently surprised at her resilience. When she raised her eyes, the figure raised its sword higher. Her eyes were glowing red in the darkness, just as they had done on the night when she had single-handedly dispatched half of them. The figure steadied itself. This it what it had been after.

"That's more like it," the figure said.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Sarah repeated darkly, staring down her attacker. When she spoke, she barely recognized her own voice, but she could not think on it; no thought could penetrate the searing haze that had descended upon her mind other than the thought of survival.

The figure raised its sword to strike again, but the girl was faster, sending the figure reeling with a spell of her own, worked without a verbal incantation, and without a wand. The figure barely blocked the spell, and before they had time to act again, the girl was upon them, and the figure was soon overwhelmed.

* * *

Late in the night, Snape turned over in bed, half awake. The fire was nothing more than glowing embers now, casting their warm, soft light into the room in which he and the girl slept. Rarely had he ever slept so well, feeling so relaxed and utterly contented, but merely lying in the girl's presence was enough to fill that strange, empty place inside his chest with warmth beyond measure. Almost smiling to himself, he reached out to place his hand gently on the sleeping girl's side as he fell back to sleep.

Instead, he found only cold, empty sheets.

His eyes shot open instantly, viewing the empty section of bed beside him. The hand that had reached out for the girl groped through the sheets frantically as if he expected to find her hidden within them. When he found nothing, he sat bolt upright, his eyes scanning the room around him in the faint light, hoping he would find her somewhere else in the room, but he was alone. For some unknown reason, someplace deep inside him was filled with a feeling of dread. He sprang out of bed, tossed on his clothes, and rushed out of the door into the hallway, still eagerly scanning around him, hoping to find the girl, even though he already knew she was gone.

Bounding down the stairs, he reached the front door. The door was unlocked and girl's boots were gone, but her long black traveling cloak, which he had given to her, was not. He did not need to guess twice as to which cloak she had taken instead. He quickly stomped his way back up the stairs, reaching the landing which housed the door to Sirius' old bedroom. Without knocking or otherwise announcing his entrance, he flung the door open loudly so it slammed upon the wall, shattering the silence within. In an instant, his wand was lit in his hand, shining it directly upon the bed. There, the bed's two occupants, Potter and the Weasley girl, both in varying states of undress amidst their bedding, squinted and blinked at it in surprise.

Harry sat up to face Snape as Ginny clutched the sheets up tightly, hiding her body. Before he had a chance to ask what the bloody hell was going on, Snape spoke.

"She's gone," Snape said angrily.

"Gone?" Harry asked, momentarily dazed and confused in his state of sleepiness. He soon realized what was going on, however, when he watched as Snape began scanning the room around him with his wandlight. It soon spotlighted the empty chair in the corner closest to the door, the chair upon which he had put his invisibility cloak, which was now gone. "My cloak's gone, too!" Harry shouted, scrambling out of bed, "She must have taken it! Where has she gone?" he asked, but when his eyes met Snape's through the wandlight, the answer became clear to both of them.

"We have to find her," Harry breathed, and immediately began throwing on his clothes haphazardly, "They could be waiting for her to show up there again." In only a few seconds, he was fully dressed, and strode over to the door where Snape waited.

"Quickly," Snape said, motioning out of the door.

"Wait!" came a shout from within the room. Both Harry and Snape looked back; Ginny too had sprang from bed and was dressing herself as quickly as Harry had. "I'm coming too," she told them. She was immediately filled with resentment and anger when an expression of concern washed over Harry's face. Snape's expression remained neutral, but it was clear that he wanted to leave as soon as possible.

"Ginny, please," Harry begged her, "Stay here. You heard what happened to Sarah and I when we faced these people before. It's too dangerous."

He gazed into her eyes. He could feel the anger burning within them.

"Please," he begged her again, "I'm going with Snape, we'll be fine. We'll be back soon. You need to stay here and tell Ron and Hermione what's going on if they get up and find us gone. Please,"

Ginny continued looking mutinous, but said nothing.

"Potter," Snape said impatiently.

Harry looked back and nodded to Snape. With one look back at Ginny, he followed Snape out of the door, and Ginny did not follow. Harry felt a pang of regret, but it was soon drowned out by his fear of the situation at hand. Sarah had snuck out unaccompanied to visit Archer Crescent again. He felt a small degree of reassurance in the fact that she had taken the invisibility cloak, but what if it hadn't been able to fully protect her? What if there had been people waiting there for her arrival, just as there had been on the night they had broken into the bank and discovered the truth that had led them there?

Harry and Snape rushed down the staircase together. Reaching the unlocked front door, they flung it open, stepping out into the cold, dark night. Both of them Disapparated as soon as their heels hit the concrete of the top step.

* * *

Muggle maintenance crews had been quite perplexed earlier in the week to find the pavement of Archer Crescent ripped, cracked, and buckled in various places. It was something that they had dismissively attributed to a bad freezing and thawing cycle as well as the use of plows, and the residents of the neighborhood had been assured that the damage would be repaired as soon as possible. Now, however, they would find their little street had sustained even more damage. Sections of pavement, just like before, were buckled and torn up.

Standing in the center of one of these newly damaged spots was the girl, her face almost expressionless, her eyes wide and quite literally ablaze, glowing brightly red. Even though the night was still, an unnatural wind seemed to be whipped up around her, causing her torn robes to flutter and billow, and her long hair to flow wildly about her shoulders. A short distance away from her, a hooded and cloaked figure was kneeling amidst more broken up pavement, having been brought to one knee.

Suddenly, there came two loud _cracks_ from a pair of rushed Apparitions, arriving nearly simultaneously.

Harry and Snape had arrived on Archer Crescent, standing side-by-side in the middle of the street a short distance behind where Sarah stood. Her back was facing them, and she seemed to not have registered the telltale sounds of Apparition from behind her, and remained focused only on the hooded figure kneeling a short distance before her. The figure, on the other hand, had noticed immediately, its hooded head snapping upward in the direction of the noise. After the momentary distraction, the figure continued focusing on the girl.

Harry's breath caught in his throat at what he saw. Sarah was standing there, her robes tattered, torn, and bloody as they swirled about her. Much of the pavement he could see was torn up around her. A short distance in front of her knelt a figure, but Harry could see nothing beyond its hooded and cloaked exterior. His eyes were then drawn to her right forearm. The thin wrapping of bandages that had concealed the strange mark upon her wrist were gone; they were now dancing in the wind that whirled around her, thoroughly singed away. The mark was alight, as if it were some strange glow-in-the-dark tattoo. She held no wand. It was lying in the curb a short distance away from her.

Harry may have been at a loss for words, but Snape was not.

"Sarah!" he shouted loudly, advancing toward her without hesitation.

The girl's eyes could not possibly widen any more than they already were. Instead, their bright red glow dimmed slightly as she heard her name, and her facial expression, although still mostly blank, flickered momentarily into confusion.

_Sarah!_... Her name echoed dimly through the haze. It was soft. She could barely hear it.

"Sarah!" Snape shouted again, drawing closer to her. Harry began rushing forward as well.

The girl blinked, her eyes dimming slightly more and becoming less wide.

_Sarah..._

The hooded figure kneeling before the girl, ever the opportunist, sprang into action, recognizing the girl's momentary confusion and lack of focus. In an instant, the figure was upon her, taking her down to the pavement, and moving atop of her in an odd and sinister fashion...

"Get off her!" Harry shouted, slashing his wand through the air toward the figure who had taken Sarah down. The figure dodged away uncannily, leaping back several yards with frightening agility, and landing steadily upon its feet.

This show of unnatural agility had initially sent a jolt of fear through Harry. He had only ever seen Fenrir Greyback display such superhuman physical ability. Yet as soon as he got a closer look at the figure that had been atop his friend, he knew it could not be the werewolf; this figure was tall, lean, and normally proportioned instead of hunched, muscular, and deformed. As the figure landed, however, all doubt was removed. It had lost its hood. Any relief Harry might have felt about the fact that the figure was _not_ Greyback was immediately dispelled when he saw the figure's face in more detail.

In the darkness, Harry should not have been able to see much of the figure's face, but this was counteracted by the fact that the figure's eyes were glowing dimly violet. It was a tall, handsome-looking young man who bore the strangely glowing violet eyes. His skin was waxy white and pale, his features gaunt. Although he appeared young, his dark hair was streaked in places with a silvery grey, and pointed ears protruded from it. Harry was once again at a loss for words, but he continued pointing his wand squarely at the strange, glowing-eyed man's chest.

Snape, meanwhile, rushed forward to where the girl lay and propped her up, cradling her limp and trembling form tightly in his arms. Her eyelids were flickering and she groaned feebly. _Good,_ Snape thought to himself quickly, _She is still conscious._ He examined her body quickly, scanning over her with his dark, fear-filled eyes. She had been slashed numerous times as if by a knife, but it was somehow slightly different from the Sectumsempra spell. He immediately began tracing over a few of her wounds with the powerful countercurse that he knew, but it seemed much less effective than normal.

"Who are you?" Harry shouted at the figure, who remained quite still while he gaged the situation. For a moment, Snape turned his attention away from the girl, scowling darkly. When he caught sight of the pale figure, his expression darkened even more, and a new sense of fear rushed through him.

"If you must know," the figure began, his voice smooth and strangely accented, "I am Vincent Albrecht Blutsauger the Fifth, but you may call me-,"

"_Vampire_," Snape snarled, his voice full of venom.

Harry looked momentarily alarmed, glancing to Snape and then back to the figure. The man smirked smugly.

"Well, if it isn't Snape," the man said, glaring, "I heard the Dark Lord tried to finish you off but failed. Pity." The man then took notice of the way Snape was cradling the girl in his arms as she lay upon the ground. He smirked again, knowingly, but said nothing. His mere presence and the fact that he had injured the girl was causing Snape far more concern and fear than any words he could possibly utter.

Snape glared back, his nostrils flaring. His right hand, holding his wand tightly, twitched. He would have liked nothing more than to give the vampire the full brunt of his anger, but he could not bring himself to let go of the bleeding girl in his arms. The girl needed him. Keeping his eyes glued on the vampire in case of further attack, he began tracing over the girl's wounds without looking, muttering the lyrical countercurse under his breath. His hand was trembling.

Without warning, Harry shot a stunner in the man's direction. The streak of bright, red light was easily deflected with a loud, metallic clang. Harry was initially unfazed, and out of habit, his next move was to disarm quickly while his opponent recovered from blocking the spell. He was stopped dead, however, as soon as he raised his wand again. His opponent was not holding a wand, but a sword. He had deflected the stunning spell with his blade.

The vampire smirked, knowing what the boy's next move had been.

"Too alike," he smirked, slashing his blade through the air toward the boy in the blink of an eye.

Harry, having been momentarily caught off guard by the revelation that he was fighting an opponent with a sword instead of a wand, barely managed to deflect the slash. Before he knew it, he was dueling full on with the strange glowing-eyed man. He scarcely had time to think. The vampire was an extremely adept duelist, with startling speed, power, and agility. There was something distinctly different about dueling the sword-weilding vampire, something that Harry could not quite put his finger on as he worked feverishly to deflect the vicious slashes that his opponent was slinging at him; it _felt_ different than dueling an opponent with a wand. Despite his efforts, he found himself being grazed painfully by slashes from the strange blade.

Sarah stirred feebly again with a slight groan. Strangely colored flashes of light were reaching her eyelids, rousing her in her semiconscious state. The frenzied sounds of a heated duel filled her ears. Next, she registered that she was not lying on the cold, hard pavement. She was resting in someone's warm, strong arms, propped up against a solid body. Very close to her, someone was whispering something which sounded like song. Her entire body was racked with pain. She could never remember feeling weaker than she did now. With great effort she managed to open her eyelids.

There, looming over her, Snape's pale silhouette stood out against the dark sky above. His eyes were focused elsewhere on her body as he attempted to mend her, and they were full of fear. As he held her in his arms, she could feel his body trembling slightly.

Suddenly, she heard a yell of pain. Snape's head turned immediately in the direction of the yell.

_That sounded like..._

"Harry," she managed to whisper, her eyes straining to look beyond her current field of vision and locate her friend. As soon as she spoke, Snape turned back to her, his eyes wide. Sarah's eyes did not meet them; they were still trying to find Harry. There came another yell and a loud, metallic clang.

_Oh no,..._

Her mind was gradually coming up to speed. She realized that she could not remember what had just happened. She did not know how she had come to lie here in Snape's arms, barely conscious, in terrible agony. Somehow, they must have discovered that she had left Grimmauld Place, and they had come here to find her. Now, Snape was trying to tend to her wounds, and Harry was dueling with the hooded and cloaked man who had attacked her, a duel which he was obviously struggling with.

Her eyes ceased their search for Harry and looked up at Snape. She had taken a deep breath to try and speak, but Snape spoke first.

"Sarah, you must tell me," Snape breathed. His words were quick, and his voice sounded hollow and shaken. "Did he-,"

"His wand," Sarah said weakly, "His wand is in the hilt of his sword."

Snape, interrupted by the girl's words, did not continue. He turned toward Potter who was beginning to resemble the girl in his state of injury and dishevelment as he struggled to duel with the vampire. He needed help. The hand gripping his wand tightened. He had to help Potter.

"Stay here, don't move," he said, lowering Sarah's body back down to the pavement as gently as he could. As soon as she was out of his arms, he sprang into action, stepping into the duel with several long strides.

He stood nearly side-by-side with the boy, fighting in tandem with him to fend off the vampire's attacks. Even with two extremely skilled wizards dueling him simultaneously, the vampire was holding his own, easily deflecting spells with his blade and sending his own curses back at them.

"His wand is in the hilt of his sword," Snape repeated the girl's words loudly over the din of the fight, glancing to his side where the boy stood. The boy gave the affirmation of a single nod.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Harry shouted, sending a streak of bright, white light at the vampire's sword.

Just for amusement's sake, the vampire allowed the spell to strike his weapon. He then enjoyed surveying Potter's facial expression as the sword was stopped midair and deftly twirled back into his hand. It was chained to him.

Harry faltered only for a moment when the disarming spell failed. Knowing that even a momentary lapse against this opponent would end in a serious injury, he pressed on in his attack with Snape at his side.

"Again!" Snape shouted at the boy, making it clear that he should attempt to disarm again.

"It's going to take more than that!" the vampire shouted back, grinning maniacally as he fended off the two wizards. His long, sharp fangs were made plainly visible. "Hyah!"

The vampire had made a swift, wide-arcing slash with his sword out in front of him. He sent a shock wave toward Snape and Harry so powerful that they were both knocked off balance and stumbled back. Before Harry could regain his footing, the vampire was upon him, but using magic was apparently no longer his aim; he was trying to physically run Harry through with his blade. The sword dove for Harry's stomach and Harry lurched aside quickly, causing him to lose his balance completely and tumble to the broken pavement beneath him. In the chaos, he had lost his grip on his wand, and it flew out of his hand, landing several inches away. As he groped for his wand, the sword lunged for him again and Harry rolled aside frantically, causing the sword to strike the broken pavement with a shower of sparks.

Before he could strike again, Snape had sent a curse at the vampire, who, despite his focus on trying to skewer the boy, blocked it skillfully with a loud clang. Soon, Snape and the vampire were dueling in extremely close quarters, wand against sword.

Harry sprang up, recovering his wand and turning to where Snape was locked in combat with the vampire. To a confused onlooker, it may have appeared as if they were actually fencing. Between working his spells, the vampire was attempting to run Snape through with his blade. The vampire was cackling. Snape's footwork was impeccable, allowing him to sidestep the blade as he fought. Harry raised his wand toward them, but his hand was shaking. At any moment, he was fearful that Snape would fall victim to that wickedly slashing blade. He had never seen a duel so strange in all his time as a wizard. Any spell he might have thrown at the vampire was liable to hit Snape as well. They stepped back and forth as they fought, cloaks flowing about them, their expert feet dancing beneath them as they twirled and turned. Harry watched, helplessly, shifting his aim to the vampire wherever he moved, waiting for an opportune moment to present itself.

The ideal moment soon presented itself when Snape made a critical misstep, causing him to be slashed across his right shoulder by the blade. He yelled in pain, leaping back and falling to one knee. Just as the vampire raised its blade to strike while his opponent was down, Harry's own hand shot forth.

"_Expelliarmus!_" he shouted, squarely striking the vampire's raised hand, causing the blade to leap out of his grasp.

Just as the length of chain was about to snap taut, Snape, without rising from one knee, slashed his wand through the air toward it.

"_Diffindo!_" he shouted. There came a loud _clank_, and the chain keeping the vampire's sword secured to his arm was cleanly sheared in half.

"No!" the vampire shouted, watching as his blade did not stop in its momentum to return to him. The chain cut, it soared well out of his reach.

The power of the Harry's disarming spell sent it flying several houses down before it finally landed in the middle of the street with another shower of sparks. As it lay there on the pavement, free of its master's hand, it twitched and writhed, as if it were a limb that had just been severed from some great beast. Without hesitation, the vampire dashed for his blade. With his back turned to Snape and Harry, he made an easy target. Curses were flying after him, but he continued to dodge uncannily, causing the spells to collide with the ground in small explosions of pavement.

Harry threw every curse he could possibly think of as fast as he could, watching in horror as the vampire drew closer to his blade with frightening speed. Snape had regained his feet as he sent spells at the vampire, but it was clear that he was injured and his condition was steadily worsening. If the vampire regained his sword, he might soon have to duel him alone if Snape became incapacitated.

Snape's eyes narrowed. There was only a split second until the vampire would reach his sword. His hand shot forth and he shouted with all of his might.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

The jet of green light was not aimed at the vampire, but where the sword lay. Both Harry and Snape watched as he dove for the sword in a rolling tumble. The instant the vampire's hand grasped the hilt, there was a loud _crack_. The vampire vanished, and Snape's killing curse struck the empty street, sending shards of broken pavement flying in all directions, some of which were alight with strange, green flames which died out momentarily.

"He got away!" Harry shouted, grimacing, and rushing toward the spot where the vampire had just Disapparated from.

"He fled," Snape corrected him, gripping his bleeding left shoulder tightly with his right hand, trying to staunch its flow. "We need to return to Grimmauld Place, _now_. He may return here. _Go_," he commanded.

Eager to avoid further confrontation with the crazed, sword-wielding vampire, Harry nodded once. He then dashed over to the curb where Sarah's wand lay. Snatching it up, he tossed it to Snape who caught it. Next, he turned on the spot, vanishing with a loud _crack_.

Tucking the wands away in the outside pocket of his robes, Snape hurried over to where the girl lay. He was confident that he had patched her up enough to take her life out of danger before he was forced to aid the boy in fighting off the vampire, but she was still badly injured and in dire need of care. He knelt down to her, ignoring his own injury and cradling her, wincing in pain as he rose, carrying her in his arms. Holding her tightly to him, he turned on the spot, pulling both of them into the crushing blackness.

* * *

Harry arrived on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place mere seconds before Snape. In their haste to leave, they had not bothered to shut the front door. Now, however, it was shut. Rushing forward, Harry turned the knob and pushed forward. Thankfully, the door was unlocked. As soon as it was open, there came a loud shriek from inside.

"They're back!" Hermione screamed in surprise.

Harry looked up. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were all standing at the base of the stairs, wearing robes over their nightclothes. Ron was looking sleepy, yawning as he leaned against the wall. Hermione looked frazzled and nervous. Ginny, on the other hand, looked positively cross. The hall around them was fully lit. They had been waiting here for quite some time for their friends to return. Just as Ginny was fixing to berate Harry about where the bloody hell he had been, Hermione shrieked again.

"You're bleeding!" she screamed, pointing at Harry, whose robes were torn in places, and slightly dampened with blood. Harry blinked, having forgotten about his own injuries. They were nothing more than razor blade scratches compared to the slash that Snape had received.

Before anyone could say anything further, Harry was shoved aside by Snape, carrying a bloodied, unconscious Sarah whose robes were slashed and torn. Hermione and Ginny both gasped audibly in fear, and Ron became quite pale.

"What's happened?" Hermione breathed, beginning to tremble as she took in Sarah's state of injury. Snape, it seemed, was also injured, bleeding from a slash wound across his right shoulder. He looked much more pale than usual.

Snape pushed right past them, carrying Sarah up the stairs toward the study.

"Potions supplies," he said loudly as he climbed the stairs, "I need potions supplies."

"I've brought my kit, but I don't have many ingredients!" Hermione squeaked, rushing up the stairs after him to reach the room that she had been sharing with Ron. Ron and Ginny immediately rushed up the stairs after her, and Harry, after shutting and locking the door behind him, followed.

"There's a cupboard in the kitchen with a bunch of ingredients!" Harry shouted up.

Snape had already made his way into the study and laid Sarah out on the bed, rushing back out into the hallway before Harry had even reached the top of the stairs. He made eye contact with him, glaring at him demandingly, but saying nothing.

"It's the top left cupboard on the far wall," Harry supplied. Without a word, Snape swept past him, thundering his way down the stairs and disappearing into the basement kitchen. Harry, meanwhile, made his way into the study, where Ron and Ginny were already huddled around Sarah. One of them must have stoked the fire to life again. He approached the bed, standing next to Ginny.

A moment later, Hermione stepped into the room, carrying her potion making kit. She dumped all of its components unceremoniously upon the desk against the wall and rushed over to the bed, eyeing Sarah with fear.

"I woke them up after you left," Ginny explained. Initially, when Harry had walked in the door, she had been ready to spout at him about how sore she was for making her stay behind, but the state in which he returned had made her forget her anger. "What happened? Where did she go?" she asked. Her tone was quiet and gentle, as if she were afraid of waking the unconscious girl upon the bed from a deep sleep.

"She went back to Archer Crescent, alone," Harry spoke, but all eyes were on Sarah's unconscious form. "We don't know exactly what happened yet, but she was attacked." Harry leaned forward, reaching out toward Sarah. He had seen a small part of his invisibility cloak protruding from her torn robes. Gently, he pulled it out. The cloak was completely unscathed. He set it aside.

Before anyone could ask who exactly had attacked Sarah, Snape reappeared, his arms laden with jars and containers of potions ingredients from the cupboard downstairs. He dumped them all on the desk in a similar fashion as Hermione, and snatched up a single vial from the untidy potion making kit. He then made his way over to the bed. As he went, he drew out his wand and waved it vaguely across the room; a tall, high-backed chair skidded its way across the floor, coming to rest beside the bed where the girl lay.

Seating himself, he grasped her left arm, pulling it closer to him. All eyes were drawn first to a shining platinum ring on her finger, a coiled serpent with glittering emeralds for eyes. Rolling up her sleeve, Snape revealed a large gash which he had already partially mended. He placed the tip of his wand on it, drawing it slowly across the place where she had been cut. He reopened the wound.

Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione all flinched and winced when fresh, crimson blood appeared.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked loudly, sounding incredulous.

Snape, without looking up, continued his work.

"Testing her," he replied, bringing the vial close to the reopened wound. With his wand, he began siphoning her blood into the vial in a similar fashion as one might remove memories for placement into a pensieve.

"For what?" Harry asked, grimacing as he watched Snape gather Sarah's blood. He could feel his own cuts stinging him, but they did not seem to be bleeding badly.

"Porphyric Hemophilia," Snape supplied.

Hermione gasped loudly, clapping a hand to her mouth, her eyes filled with terror. Snape remained silent, knowing that the Granger girl would probably begin reciting a textbook definition at any moment. Harry didn't know exactly what that meant, but he suddenly had a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and had a vague idea of where all of this was going. All eyes but Snape's were on Hermione, waiting for her inevitable explanation.

"That's the magical disease that causes- causes-," she stuttered, unable to spit it out.

"Causes what?" Ron demanded.

"Vampirism," Hermione whispered, trembling. Her eyes welled up with tears.

Ginny looked as if she were going to be sick. Harry's head felt light, and Ron turned an even paler shade.

"A _vampire_?" Ginny whispered in disbelief, "You were fighting a _vampire_?"

"Wait a moment," Harry spoke up as a new jolt of fear shot through him, "Shouldn't you be testing me, too?"

Snape, having collected enough of Sarah's blood, mended her wound and rose from his chair, making his way over to the desk where the potionmaking kit and supplies rested.

"Did it bite you, or bleed into an open wound of yours?" Snape asked impatiently, seating himself at the desk and setting to work.

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all eyed Harry nervously.

"No," Harry replied confidently. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione looked slightly relieved, but their eyes were still full of worry for their unconscious friend lying in the bed.

"Then you are fine," Snape replied, already putting together a mixture of ingredients inside Hermione's cauldron, having lit a small flame underneath it. "It is only transmitted by blood, or by being bitten."

"Was Sarah bitten?" Hermione asked meekly, leaning down closer to where Sarah lay. She eyed Sarah's wounds carefully, searching for telltale puncture marks, but could not find any.

"She was unable to provide us with that information before she lost consciousness," Snape said over his work, not bothering to turn and face the others in the room. "I did not find any bite marks. She may have, however, been bled upon before we arrived, and so I must test her blood."

"What about you?" Harry asked, eyeing Snape as he hunched over the desk. He looked extremely pale, no doubt from blood loss. His wound was unmended, but he still went on with his work.

"I am fine," Snape replied dismissively, focused on his task.

Harry felt strange standing there, feeling equal amounts of concern for the possibility that not only had Sarah been put at risk of infection, but Snape, who had recieved a bleeding wound in close quarters directly from the vampire's blade, may have been put at risk too.

"Are you sure?" Harry persisted, "Maybe he had blood on his blade, something that we didn't see, or-,"

"Fine," Snape sighed, cutting the boy off. "I shall test my blood, as well as yours."

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had all dragged chairs over to Sarah's bedside and seated themselves. As Snape's concoction began to simmer, he grabbed two more empty vials. Without a flinch, he gathered his own blood from his open wound and set the vial aside, next to Sarah's. Next, he motioned to the boy.

Harry approached the desk, rolling back his sleeve and holding out one of his cuts to Snape. Snape made the work as fast and as painless as possible, siphoning the boy's blood into the empty vial he held. With a simple countercurse, Harry's wound was mended. Snape also took it upon himself to mend the boy's other cuts. They were not very deep, only slight grazes, and the countercurse worked on them quickly.

Nodding his thanks, Harry approached the bed. Ginny had dragged over an extra chair for him and placed it next to her own. Harry seated himself; all four friends were now seated on the opposite side of the bed from where Sarah lay, and where Snape's own chair was. All they could do now, they supposed, was wait.

After Snape had set the mixture to simmer to completion, he finally shifted his attention to his own wound, pointing the tip of his wand close to his slashed shoulder and muttering a countercurse. After tracing over the wound several times, it had sealed. He then rose from the desk and made his way to the empty chair resting beside the bed. Seating himself, he leaned down. Reaching underneath the bed, he produced the bag of belongings that he had brought to Grimmauld Place. Rummaging through it, he pulled out a small red bottle. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all watched as Snape alternated between taking a swig from the bottle himself, and tilting some of it into Sarah's mouth gently. When only a small amount of the potion remained, he passed the bottle to Harry, who drank down its remaining contents and immediately began feeling less light-headed.

A great amount of silence passed, during which the only sounds in the room were the soft crackling of the lowly-burning fire, and the faint simmering of the cauldron upon the desk.

Harry cleared his throat, working up the courage to ask the question which had been present in his mind from the moment he had heard exactly what Porphyric Hemophilia meant.

"What if she-, I mean, what if we-," he stuttered.

"Are infected?" Snape completed the boy's question, meeting his eyes across the bed. The boy nodded once, slowly. Snape took a deep breath. "Even if we are, we should be fine. If caught early enough, the contamination can be treated, and eliminated. Only when too much time passes between initial contamination is the infection permanent, and vampirism inevitable. That is why I was under such haste to begin testing her blood," he said, eyeing the unconscious girl on the bed. After having given her Blood-Replenishing Potion, he was sure that she would come around soon.

Harry nodded in understanding. A great wave of relief washed over all of the other occupants of the room. All of them had been harboring terrifying thoughts of their friends becoming vampires. Ginny leaned against Harry, resting her head on his shoulder as all of them waited for Snape's mixture to simmer to completion.

About twenty minutes later, Snape rose from his chair.

"It is time," he announced.

Chairs scraped on the floor as everyone got up, hurrying over to the desk. Snape stood beside it, the vials of blood very close to him. The rest of them gathered in a tight semicircle around the front of the desk. There, in the simmering cauldron, was a mixture of thin, pure white liquid which bubbled from the heat of the flame beneath it.

"If contamination is absent," Snape began, picking up the vial which contained Harry's blood sample, "The blood will be harmlessly assimilated into the mixture, causing no major change in its composition, and no change in color. If contamination is present, however," he continued, raising the vial over the simmering cauldron, "The mixture will be overwhelmed by it, and turn a thick, dark red, similar to blood."

A moment of silence passed.

"This is Harry's blood," Snape said, tipping the vial into the mixture.

Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all drew in a collective breath as the blood dripped into cauldron.

Several seconds passed. It remained white.

They all exhaled.

"Mine," Snape said, tilting his own vial over the mixture.

Another intake of breath.

Several seconds later, the mixture was unchanged.

Another sigh of relief.

"And," Snape said, picking up Sarah's vial and tipping ot over the cauldron, "Sarah's."

A deep breath.

Several painful seconds passed.

The mixture remained white. There came a great sigh of relief from all of them. No one was infected.

"Thank heavens," Hermione breathed, leaning heavily against Ron, who nodded and wrapped an arm around her.

Ginny hugged Harry tightly.

Now that their fears of infection were dispelled, some more time was spent huddled around Sarah's bed, waiting for her to wake, but she did not stir. Only when Snape forcefully insisted that it was extremely late and that they should all get back to bed did they acquiesce to leaving the study and returned to their rooms to sleep. Snape, however, remained awake despite his fatigue, watching vigilently, and waiting for Sarah to wake.


	27. New Year's Eve Surprises

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 27: New Year's Eve Surprises.

* * *

Her head was pounding with extreme pain. She could barely move. She couldn't open her eyes for fear of her head splitting open. After a few moments, she realized that her entire body was racked with pain, not just her head. It felt as if she was on fire from the inside out, an intense physical pain that wrenched and writhed all the way to her very core, making itself something more than physical… something strange… something… _else_.

Hours might have passed as she lay there, wherever she was, her form tensed in agony. When she finally opened her eyes, she wasn't quite sure how long she had been lying there. In fact, she wasn't quite sure that she knew where _there_ was at all.

With a great deal of effort she righted herself into a sitting position. After several moments of blinking, her eyes finally focused themselves. It was dark, she realized. Very dark. From what little information she could gather on the peripheries of her vision, she was in a long hall which stretched out before her, the walls of which seemed to be lined with tall mirrors. She could dimly see her reflections, her many mirrored images, moving in precise tandem with her body as she struggled to stand.

Trembling, she stood. Her head was swimming. She felt strange, but she could not quite put her finger on it. Not bothering to give a second glance to the mirrors which lined the halls at her side, she strode forward, which seemed to be her only avenue of progress. The path stretched on before her, and she quickly found herself plodding along at a hurried walk, followed by a jog, and finally a full blown sprint. Where was she? Was she trapped here? The mirrored hall seemed to stretch on forever…

Her lungs burned as she gasped for air, running at full speed down the darkened hall. Finally she slowed as she caught sight of an end ahead of her, another gleaming surface which reflected her image as she broke her sprint, her heavy footfalls echoing loudly across the high, arched ceiling above her.

When she arrived before the mirror resting at the end of the hall, she doubled over, her hands resting on her knees as she panted heavily, trying to catch her breath. She spent a few minutes standing in this position, her long hair cascading down as she bent over. When she was finally breathing at a normal rate again, a quick toss of her head swung her long hair back over her shoulders, and she stood up straight.

Unfortunately, her breath was stolen away from her again as soon as she set eyes on the mirror resting before her.

Standing in the mirror where her reflection should have been was a frightening figure, altogether terrifying, yet familiar. It was her, she knew, but different somehow. The eyes that stared back at her were wide in a sort of rage, glowing a fiendish shade of red, and completely pupilless. The skin on her face was marred in places by strange, streak-like marks, almost as if someone had anointed her with a peculiar type of war paint in the same glowing shade of red. At her side, the strange mark on her wrist was glowing just as brightly. Her clothing was torn and shredded, and from the skin showing through, she could see other streaks of red cutting across her, on her arms and legs. Whatever the origin of these strange glowing marks, they seemed to be taking her over from the inside out, inch by inch…

"No!" she shouted, shutting her eyes tightly. Curling her hands into fists, they both shot forth, but before they made contact with the mirror's silvery surface, she leapt backwards in surprise; the mirror had shattered on its own, and sharp, splintered shards rained down upon the floor like a glittering waterfall.

When the glass settled, she was momentarily relieved until she heard the sound of other mirrors shattering on their own further down the hall. She spun about on her heel, glancing back the way she had come. Somehow the hall was filling up with glass as every mirror shattered. Fear closed an icy hand around her throat, stopping her from screaming. She backed up against the wall behind her, into the empty frame that had shown her the terrifying vision of herself, raising her arms in a desperate attempt to shield herself from the wave of razor-sharp shards rushing to meet her…

* * *

Her eyes shot open. She was gasping for air, and she could feel a cold sweat on her body. By what information her newly opened eyes could gather, she was no longer in the strange hall of shattered mirrors. Unfortunately, her eyes could gather little else; everything looked oddly blurry. With a squint, she could faintly see that the ceiling above her looked familiar.

"You are awake," came the deep, comfortingly familiar voice from beside her.

"Severus," the girl gasped, attempting to sit up, but a dull, throbbing pain that permeated her entire body prevented her from doing so. Instead she let her head fall to the side, squinting in confusion at the tall, dark mass of a figure seated beside the bed on which she lay. "Severus, I," she began, her tone confused and startled, "I can't see."

Although she could not see it properly, Snape's features instantly reshuffled themselves from a look of relief into a mixed expression of dread and confusion.

"What do you mean, you can't see?" he asked for clarification, leaning forward to get a closer look at the girl, "Are you blind?" With his right hand, his wand was quickly grabbed up and pointed into all corners of the room without looking; it was now brightly lit by all of its lamps instead of just the dimly burning embers of the fire.

Sarah blinked in the new brightness, her sudden visual impairment becoming more obvious to her in the light. Snape's features only became clear when he leaned in very close to her.

"No, I'm not blind," she said, "But everything is… blurry. It's not usually—hey!" she exclaimed, squinting in discomfort as a light from the tip of Snape's wand was pointed directly into her right eye. A firm hand on her forehead steadied her as Snape examined her eyes wordlessly. "Can you see anything?"

After several moments of intense light shining directly into her eyes, Snape extinguished his wand and set it aside.

"No," he said, "Not anything unusual, I am afraid." The hand which had been placed on the girl's forehead began slowly stroking her hair. The girl sighed, and silence passed between them.

Snape was still simply relieved that the girl had awoken, but Sarah felt as if an unspoken inquiry was growing in the silence, pressing itself upon her, unasked.

"I went back," she spoke finally, her voice full of bitter disappointment, "I went back to see if my—if they would recognize me, somehow. It was stupid, I'm sorry, I-,"

Snape shushed her softly.

"The only thing _stupid_ about what you did was not having me accompany you," he spoke, his tone gentle but serious. "I promised to protect you, and you did not allow me to fulfill my promise."

"I'm sorry," the girl apologized again, "I had to know, and I thought that you might not—I mean, maybe you would have thought it was too-," she stuttered, unsure of what exactly to say. She was certain that, if she had asked him, he would have forbidden her to go back.

"You were afraid that I would not allow you to return?" Snape asked.

"Well?" the girl pressed back at him, "Was I right?"

Snape's dark eyes shifted back and forth in thought for a few moments. Perhaps the girl was correct.

"It was certainly a dangerous venture, in either case," Snape explained slowly, "But if you had allowed me to come with you…" he did not complete his sentence.

"What then?" Sarah asked, sounding frustrated. "I tried to be as safe as possible, I took Harry's cloak, but that _guy_," she stressed in an irritated fashion, still ignorant of her opponent's true nature, "Could see right through it, somehow."

"That _guy_," Snape repeated, sounding slightly odd using slang to which he was not accustomed, "Was a vampire. He was probably able to sense or smell the presence of human blood. He could not see through the cloak."

"A _vampire_?" Sarah breathed in disbelief. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to remember what had happened, and as she did, she could not help but notice that Snape was suddenly stroking her hair more forcefully. She could remember the initial attack, and being injured, but after a certain point, everything seemed to be a blank. Then there came the dim memory of Snape and Harry showing up somehow, and then everything afterward was a blank as well. "What happened?" she asked him, opening her eyes again and gazing over at the dark, blurry figure seated at her bedside.

"Potter-," Snape mentally scolded himself. Force of habit. "Harry and I arrived just in time. You were attacked by a vampire named Vincent, an old supporter of the Dark Lord who evidently survived the war unnoticed. You were apparently able to keep him at bay until we arrived, though not without significant injury."

"I can tell," Sarah groaned. Her entire body ached. Her eyes shot open again, however, as a more urgent question came to mind. "Severus, was anyone… bitten?"

"No," Snape replied confidently. "Fortunately, no one was infected."

Sarah sighed in relief. She did not know much of _real_ vampirism, and what little knowledge she possessed of vampires from came from old Muggle horror movies and legends, but at least no one had been infected, as Snape had said.

"Harry," Sarah spoke, "Is he okay?"

"He is fine," Snape replied. He did not bother to elaborate on any injuries sustained by either himself or the boy, or how he had meticulously tested blood samples from each of them to be sure that none of them were infected. The boy no longer had a scratch on him, and he had taken great care to conceal his own injury from the vampire's sword beneath his robes.

"The vampire," Sarah began tentatively, having taken notice of the slight change in Snape's demeanor when he spoke of the creature that had attacked her. "Did you… know him?"

Snape shut his eyes and swallowed hard; his Death Eater days were something which, with great effort, he had been trying for quite a long time to not recall.

"_Know_ is too strong a word," he said, his voice rooted in that familiar tone of seriousness in which it had been stuck for so long before the girl had become close to him. "I knew _of_ him," he explained, "And had seen him on more than a few occasions during meetings of the Dark Lord's inner circle. He was head liaison to the vampires, valued allies to the Dark Lord's ranks, but never truly allowed among the ranks of Death Eaters, as the Dark Lord viewed them to be less than human." He bit his tongue, preventing himself from adding an afterthought of, _which they are_.

"Sort of like the werewolves?" the girl inquired.

"Precisely," Snape replied. "They were an instrument of terror. Imagine the fear experienced by those who refused to cooperate with the Dark Lord when they were threatened with their loved ones being infected with lycanthropy or vampirism."

For the pain in her body, Sarah did not nod, but she fully understood the power that such a threat would have. Squinting, she turned her head again to the blurry figure seated next to her, reaching out a hand toward him.

When Snape saw the gesture, he immediately clasped her hand in his own. Several more moments of silence passed between them.

"Severus," the girl began tentatively after a while, "Do dreams- do they mean anything?" she asked. She was fully aware of the stories Harry had told her, where his dreams had been so meaningful and poignant. She, however, was completely unused to having dreams that meant much of anything, but she could not shake the feeling that the dream she had just experienced was an important one, indeed.

Snape considered her for a moment. His own dreams, as well as those he had heard about the boy having, were on his mind.

"What do you mean?" he asked softly, continuing to stroke her hair while he held her hand.

"I had a dream, just now," she said, "Before I woke up." The girl's eyes flickered back and forth as they searched for Snape's in the blur that was her vision. He leaned closer to her, making them clear.

"Tell me about it," he said soothingly, trying to coax it out of her before she could have second thoughts about discussing the dream. Dreams, as he knew all too well, could be so very important.

The girl took a deep breath.

"I was in a sort of hallway," she started slowly, her voice soft. Her eyes were open wide, but now they stared off into the distance, unfocused, as if they were picturing what she described. "Full of mirrors. I got up and ran as far as I could, and when I came to the end of it, I stopped. There was a mirror at the end of the hall, but I was out of breath when I got there."

The girl paused in her thoughts, hesitant to recall what she saw next. Snape, intrigued but also feeling a small amount of trepidation, leaned closer to her.

"What then?" He pressed, eager to hear the rest.

Sarah sighed again.

"When I finally caught my breath," she continued, "I looked up at the mirror at the end of the hall that stood before me. I saw—I saw…," she swallowed hard.

"What did you see?" Snape pressed, leaning even closer, his eyes full of concern.

"Myself," Sarah spat out, her red eyes shaking frantically as she saw, swimming before her in her imagination, the frightening reflection she had seen of herself, "But I was… different. I was changed. I wasn't myself anymore."

Snape remained quiet, silently urging her to continue.

"I looked—different, scary," the girl said, raising up her right arm as if to gaze upon the strange mark she bore, even though she could not see it clearly. "My eyes were completely red, and glowing… and I had red marks all over my body, kind of like this _thing_," she said in disgust, the mark slightly visible even with her blurry sight. She swallowed hard once again, tilting her head toward Snape as she lowered her arm.

"Is that all?" Snape asked slowly, trying to mask his eagerness.

The girl shook her head as it lay upon the pillow.

"I was so afraid," she continued, "Of what I saw in the mirror. I was going to smash it, but before I could, it broke on its own. After that, all of the other mirrors broke by themselves, too. The entire hall seemed to be filling up with glass. It was all going to hit me when I woke up," she said.

"I see," Snape responded, trying his best to envision the girl's dream. He was sure that a dream like that _had_ to mean _something_, but there was a reason why he had not studied dream interpretation. He spent several moments in silent contemplation before speaking again. "Do not let it bother you right now," he said reassuringly, "And if it persists in troubling you, I know just the person to ask about it."

"Alright," the girl replied with a sigh, tightening her grip on Snape's hand in an affectionate manner.

"You must be exhausted," Snape said, picking up his wand once again and flicking it casually. The room once again darkened itself. "Please, rest."

"Not without you," the girl said with a smile.

"Very well," he conceded, standing from the high-backed chair in which he had kept a silent vigil while watching over the girl. With a second flick of his wand toward the door, it swung shut, and he quickly divested of most of his clothing. Slowly sliding into bed beside the girl, he gently embraced her body so as to not cause her discomfort, all the while wincing at the throbbing pain emanating from the gash across his shoulder.

* * *

A short while later, in the upstairs bedroom that had once belonged to Sirius Black, Harry was awake. He lay on his back, his arms crossed behind his head, resting on his pillow. The sheets were pulled down to his midsection, and the red-haired girl sleeping beside him had an arm draped across his bare chest. He knew she was asleep from her soft, even breathing. He stared up at the ceiling, unable to really see much in the darkness, his glasses lying on the night stand beside the bed. He stared up at nothing, troubled thoughts racing through his mind.

After the night's events, a fresh fear had been awakened inside him. Someone, a _vampire_ no less, had been waiting for Sarah to reappear at Archer Crescent. She was most definitely being hunted, but why? For what purpose? A deep dread filled him when he thought about what actions these mysterious people might take next in order to find her; they had already failed to ambush her twice, and he doubted that they would attempt to do so again. They were determined, and they would probably try something else.

In addition to this, another worry was racing through his mind. Twice now he had seen Sarah in that strange state; once on the night they discovered the family on Archer Crescent, and again tonight when he and Snape had arrived there to find her. Although her eyes had been alight, he hadn't seen her do much of anything; what was _more_ worrisome to him, however, was the way he had seen her mark glowing too. He wasn't sure what it meant at all, but he was sure that it probably didn't bode well. He also wasn't sure if Snape had seen it. In all the worry of the aftermath, he had thought it best not to mention it.

"What is it?" came a soft, slightly-muffled voice at his side. Ginny had obviously sensed that he was not asleep.

"It's nothing," Harry said, unfolding one of his arms from behind his head and resting it gently on her form. "I'm just worried."

"What about?" Ginny inquired, yawning as she gazed at Harry in the dark. "Snape tested each of you, everyone is going to be fine," she said.

"It's not that," Harry replied, his voice laced with concern. "I'm worried about Sarah. I think-," he paused for a moment, trying to find the right words, but he couldn't think of any better way to say it, "I think there's something wrong with her."

"Bloody well right there's something wrong with her," Ginny said wryly, "She snuck off alone in the middle of the night to a place that she knew was probably being watched," she finished. She then gave a frustrated sigh. Harry's hand stroked her arm soothingly.

"Not that," Harry said, unable to help himself as the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

"What, then?" Ginny asked, closing her eyes as she rested against him.

Harry remained silent. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he could not quite put his finger on it.

"I'm not sure, exactly," he admitted, "But if you'd seen her on that night, and seen what she had done…," he paused for a moment as he relived it in his mind, "I'm pretty sure she had gotten that way again tonight before we arrived. And then there's the mark," he continued, "It's all just—strange."

As Harry fell silent and continued to stare up at the dark ceiling, Ginny craned her neck toward him, planting a warm, soft kiss upon his cheek, and then resting her head upon his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it right now," she said. "You've been through enough tonight."

Wordlessly agreeing with her, Harry tilted his head to the side, kissing her once on the forehead. Closing his eyes, he tried his best to fall asleep in spite of his troubled mind.

* * *

When sunlight was finally streaming through the windows, Sarah found herself alone. In opening her eyes, she also found that her vision, while still markedly blurrier than normal, had improved a great deal from how they had been last night. Sitting up, she discovered that while her body still ached a bit, she was no longer in the same intense pain as before. The scent of food and coffee was lingering in the air. Knowing that breakfast must be on, she slid out of bed. After stretching, she headed downstairs.

Descending into the kitchen, she found everyone seated at the table. The long, thick wooden table was, as usual, laden with an inordinate amount of delicious-looking food. Her friends were seated around it, helping themselves, as Kreacher busied himself about the kitchen, cleaning and dusting as he went, observing contentedly as his breakfast was being enjoyed. Both Snape and Hermione were absorbed in their own copies of _The Daily Prophet_ as they ate. Ron, completely engrossed in his food, listened on as Harry and Ginny chatted quietly.

When Sarah entered, Harry, seated facing the doorway, noticed her first.

"Good morning," he said.

"'Morning," Sarah replied, moving down the table and seating herself next to Snape, where an empty place was set and waiting for her.

Hermione lowered her paper briefly to glance at Sarah. Satisfied that she looked sound enough, she began reading again.

"Feeling better today?" she asked casually from behind a page of _The Prophet_.

"Much," Sarah said, loading up her plate with food. She had to squint a bit to be sure of what she was actually putting on it.

"And your vision?" asked a deep, smooth voice. He did not glance up from his reading either.

"Better than last night, but still not one hundred percent," Sarah said.

Harry, Ginny, and Ron all glanced over to Sarah, unable to look away from her strange red eyes; Hermione lowered her paper again as well.

"Vision?" Harry asked.

Sarah nodded once, but Snape spoke before she could.

"She seems to be suffering from a temporary vision impairment after the events of last night," he said as calmly as possible, and casting a sort of sideways glance to the Granger girl, whom he instinctively knew might be alarmed. She did gasp a bit, but other than that, remained silent.

"Probably just from blood loss, or injury, or shock, you know," said Ron nonchalantly with a shrug, his mouth half full of food, "I'm sure it'll mend. Same thing happened to me one summer playing Quidditch in our yard. I reckon I couldn't see straight for about a week after George hit me with a Bludger square in the-,"

Hermione cleared her throat sternly and gave him a most Hermione-ish look. Clearly she did not think this proper table conversation in light of recent events. Ron turned slightly pink and swallowed some of his food.

"I'm sure it'll get better, at any rate," he finished, tucking into another helping of breakfast.

"I hope so," Sarah replied after having swallowed a gulp of pumpkin juice, "I've never had to wear glasses before. I don't think I'd look very good in them."

"It's not all bad," Harry spoke up, "That is, of course, as long as you don't have anyone punching you on the nose constantly and breaking them," he said, recalling how his glasses had always been broken courtesy of Dudley, until he had found out that he was a wizard.

Briefly, a frequented fantasy vision of himself punching James Potter in the face and breaking his glasses flitted through Snape's mind.

Thankfully, just as Sarah had hoped, her vision greatly improved over the course of the next few days, to the point where she was fairly certain that it was back to normal. It was now New Year's Eve, and all the occupants of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place were seated around the kitchen table just as they had been a few days ago, having just finished lunch.

"What shall we do today?" Hermione asked idly, still perusing her fresh copy of _The Daily Prophet_ left over from breakfast.

"Something fun, I reckon," said Ron, who received a vigorous nod of agreement from Ginny. Harry, meanwhile, suddenly looked as if he was deep in thought.

"I know!" he said excitedly, smiling brightly around the table, apparently quite pleased with his idea, "We've never taught Sarah how to conjure a Patronus, have we?"

Sarah shook her head in the negative. Snape glanced up at the boy, realizing that this was something he himself had neglected to teach her.

"Why don't we have a go at it?" Harry suggested, glancing around the table again, and then finally meeting Snape's black eyes, seeking his approval.

Snape nodded once.

"Very well," he agreed, "We shall use the study."

A while later, all of the furniture in the study in which Sarah and Snape slept had been carefully pushed aside to the walls, allowing the maximum amount of space for practicing the Patronus charm. Sarah stood eagerly, her wand at the ready. She had heard of Patronuses before, and what an important role they had played during the war, but she had never thought to ask how to create one of her own. Harry, who was quite practiced at teaching others to perform the Patronus, had already spent a short while lecturing about what a Patronus truly was, as well as what feelings were most vital in being able to produce a fully corporeal one. Snape was seated in a high-backed chair, watching the two of them, but mainly watching Sarah; Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were all seated on the sofa, which had been transfigured back into its original shape, rather than the form of the bed it had been assuming, in order to make more space. They were watching Sarah intently, curious about whether she would be able to produce a Patronus, and also about what form it might take.

When Harry finally finished speaking, he turned to his three friends seated upon the sofa.

"How about one of you show her how it's done?" he asked, motioning to the center of the room, "So she can see."

"Why don't you do it?" Ron protested, "Yours is the best." Both Ginny and Hermione gave tiny nods of agreement.

"Well, all right then," Harry said. "Stand back," he told Sarah, who shuffled aside to the wall, giving Harry as much space as possible.

"_Expecto Patronum_," Harry spoke calmly, flicking his wand toward the center of the room. Compared to instances in the past, where it had taken a measurable amount of effort to focus his mind properly and produce the charm, it seemed all but effortless to him now; a bright, silvery, regal-looking stag erupted from the tip of his wand, landing deftly and silently in the center of the room. Sarah's jaw dropped slightly as she watched it. It trotted in place for a moment before making a tiny circle, and then standing tall as it seemed to regard the room's occupants. Harry smiled brightly at it. Snape, although Harry did not see, was wearing a tiny smirk.

After a few moments, Harry lowered his wand and gave a slight bow to the ethereal-looking creature, who, seeming to know that it had been dismissed, completely dissipated into thin air, leaving nothing behind but an awestruck Sarah.

"That was _amazing_," she gawked, never having actually seen a Patronus for herself, let alone Harry's, whose was quite more astonishing than most.

"Thanks," Harry beamed, "It took loads of practice."

"And I—I can do that?" Sarah said, still in utter amazement at the creature of other-worldly beauty that she had just seen.

"Sure you can," Harry said encouragingly, "But don't be disappointed if you don't get it today. It's a very difficult charm to learn."

With this, Sarah began attempting to summon her own Patronus, but her attempts started out fairly unsuccessfully. To Harry's surprise, she was very quickly able to produce a sizeable shield form, but she couldn't quite get it to take shape. Every so often, Ginny or Hermione would point into the flowing silvery light with an excited squeak, swearing that they had seen a horn, or a paw, or a hoof take shape. Not long after, everyone, aside from Snape, had joined in on the practice session; a silvery otter was swimming its way through the room gracefully, and a beautiful horse with a flowing mane had its head tilted downward confusedly as a small silver terrier ran figure eights frantically between its legs. The room was full of happiness as they all laughed at the antics of their respective guardians. Harry had refrained from re-summoning his as he continued to try and fine-tune Sarah's technique. Snape was still seated in the high-backed chair, his arms crossed as he watched.

"Severus," Sarah spoke up after a while, "Where's yours?" she asked.

"I'd rather not," he replied, though not unkindly.

It had grown quite dark outside by the time Sarah made her next breakthrough. Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and even Snape, were all enjoying hot butterbeer that had been brought up for them by Kreacher, while Harry continued toiling with Sarah, determined to have her produce a Patronus. Finally, at about seven o'clock, Sarah shut her eyes tightly, filled herself with the happiest thoughts she could possibly imagine, and thrust her wand forward.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" she shouted. There was a soft, distant rumble that sounded almost like a roar, and the silvery light that emerged from her wand began swirling tumultuously, as if it was trying to take shape. Sarah's eyes were still shut tight, and everyone else was watching excitedly. Unfortunately, the light fizzled away before it took shape.

"Again!" Harry shouted, "Quickly!"

Sarah clenched her teeth together hard in focus.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" she shouted again. This time, immediately, and to several surprised gasps, a large, sleek, fierce-looking lioness erupted from the tip of Sarah's wand, her lithe form landing silently on the floor of the study, where she immediately began to pace back and forth in a very cat-like manner. Sarah knew she had been successful when she could see, through her eyelids, a silvery shimmer of light illuminating the room. She opened her eyes, grinning from ear to ear, as she beheld the Patronus that she herself had produced. She could hardly believe it. Perhaps it was all the happy thoughts she had produced in order to summon it, or perhaps it was the sheer amount of warm, positive energy exuded by the large, silvery cat, but she could not recall ever feeling so elated.

"Well done!" Ginny shouted with a smile, clapping her hands excitedly.

Hermione and Harry joined in the applause, Snape gave a pleased and approving nod, while Ron raised his glass of butterbeer on high.

"A Patronus fitting of a Gryffindor if ever I saw one," he said happily, and then took a large swig.

"Hear, hear!" Ginny and Hermione cheered simultaneously, taking a drink. Even Snape drank to it, although discreetly.

A moment later, the lioness dissipated as though she were nothing more than a puff of smoke. Sarah was still standing quite still, her eyes fixed upon the spot where the lioness had faded, as if it were still standing there.

It was this joyous event that got their New Year's Eve celebrations underway. The evening was spent in the study, the fire roaring brightly. Kreacher had apparently been able to sense when their celebration had got underway, and everyone was soon commenting that the amount of different types of food that Kreacher knew how to prepare was rivaled only by the staggering variety of wine and spirits that he was supplying them with. Sarah, who had quickly found herself enamored with the spirits of the wizarding world during her trip to the Leaky Cauldron, was enjoying herself immensely.

"Kreacher, where have you been keeping all of this?" Sarah asked amusedly when the elf brought yet another tray laden with beverages into the room and set it down upon the coffee table.

"Kreacher can't reveal all of his secrets, miss," the house-elf said coyly, giving Sarah a bow and backing out of the room.

"No wonder," Ron said with a laugh, "From the looks of things, he's afraid that you'll drink him dry!"

"Oh, come on, I haven't drank _that_-" Sarah hiccupped mid sentence, to uproarious laughter. "—much," she finished, laughing. "Nevermind."

When it was nearing midnight, Snape had excused himself to visit the washroom. A few moments later, Sarah had taken advantage of the fact that Harry, Ginny, and Ron were now in a deep discussion about Quidditch in order to follow him quietly. Hermione, never having been all that interested in Quidditch to begin with, eyed Sarah's back knowingly as she watched her slink out of the room behind Snape.

Sarah stood out in the hall on the landing, her back leaned up against the wall next to the door of the washroom while she waited for Snape to emerge. It a few minutes later when the doorknob clicked, and Snape made his way back out into the hall. Slightly surprised by the girl's presence, he stood up straight as he regarded her, an eyebrow quirked.

"I am sorry," he said, "I was unaware that a line had formed, otherwise I would have been out more quickly."

Sarah smiled up at him, standing up off of the wall.

"It's not that," Sarah assured him, "I was just thinking," she began quietly, "What are we going to do at midnight?"

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "We shall ring in the New Year, of course. I believe you may have had enough to drink if you have forgotten that much."

"No, no, I mean-," she continued. Snape, she realized, might be completely unaware of the tradition of kissing at midnight. Perhaps it was a Muggle tradition? "You know, at midnight on New Year's Eve, people usually kiss."

"Oh, that," Snape said. His expression suddenly became soft, and it seemed as if he wasn't standing up quite so straight anymore as he craned his neck down toward the girl. "You mean, you wish to—in the presence of your friends?"

"Sure, why not?" Sarah replied confidently, "You heard Harry. Ginny and Hermione already know."

"And the Weasley boy?" Snape inquired with a smirk. Granger, he knew, had accidentally been told about their relationship by Potter, and he could certainly hand it to the Weasley girl for being intuitive enough to guess it on her own, but Ronald, he knew, had probably not guessed a thing.

"He'll get over it," Sarah said dismissively.

"Not quite so easily, I am sure," Snape reminded her.

"I know," Sarah sighed, moving closer to him and wrapping her arms about his neck affectionately, "But everyone _else_ knows. I'm sure once he figures _that_ out everything will be just fine. Besides, he's got Hermione. If anyone can talk some sense into him, she can."

"I certainly do not wish, tonight, to have to perform any Unbreakable Vows upon the terms that no one reveal this to anyone else," Snape drawled, placing his hands upon the girl's waist and gazing meaningfully into her eyes.

"You won't have to," she assured him. "Even if you don't, I trust them completely. So what do you say?"

Snape thought to himself for a moment before giving a small nod.

"If you wish it, it will be so," he told her.

After the girl smiled brightly up at him, they parted, and headed back into the study.

"Where have you two been?" Ron spoke up at once, pointing to the large grandfather clock set against the wall on the far side of the room. He and Harry had dragged it down from the attic a bit earlier with much effort, as this was the same grandfather clock that had once shot heavy bolts at passersby. Luckily, no one had gotten any closer to it for the rest of the evening. "It's almost time!"

Harry attempted to ignore the fact that Ginny and Hermione were both shooting him looks.

"So it is," Snape remarked as he and Sarah entered the room.

Hermione and Ron were seated comfortably upon the sofa, and Harry sat with Ginny on the plush rug close to the fireplace. Sarah moved to sit near them, and quite unexpectedly to everyone but her, Snape did not seat himself in the high-backed chair once again, but instead followed her, seating himself in a most uncharacteristic manner upon the floor. Ron shrugged it off and took another swig of his drink, but Hermione and Ginny were now blushing slightly and trying their very best not to look at them. Harry, determined to diffuse the situation, glanced to the clock again.

"Look," he said, trying to mask the slight nervousness in his voice as he watched the thin second hand of the clock ticking along quickly; he knew what Snape and Sarah must be up to, "Ten seconds."

"Ten," they all said.

A log in the fire popped loudly.

"Nine,"

There was a clanking of glass as Ron set his drink down.

"Eight,"

Another clank as Hermione set hers down as well.

"Seven,"

Ginny leaned closer to Harry.

"Six,"

Hermione leaned closer to Ron.

"Five,"

Sarah leaned closer to Snape.

"Four,"

Harry and Ginny smiled at one another.

"Three,"

Hermione put her hand in Ron's.

"Two,"

A log in the fire shifted. The firelight flared.

"One,"

The clock began chiming midnight loudly. No one shouted 'Happy New Year' as all of the lips in the room were locked. Sarah felt her heart leap, and felt a new level of happiness as Snape kissed her passionately, (although not _too_ passionately… he had decided that this would probably be obscene-looking enough to all of the _other_ eyes in the room) in full view of her friends. Her eyes were closed, and she had no idea if anyone was watching them, but she was thrilled.

Harry and Ginny broke apart first, and smiled at one another again before Ginny looked curiously, with a blush, at the sight beside her. Harry, who had already seen it before, tried his best not to look. Instead he glanced over in Ron's direction, preparing for the inevitable, just as he was breaking his kiss with Hermione.

"Happy New Year, Hermione, I-", he began, but in the corner of his eye, caught sight of Sarah and Snape, who, despite all of the others in the room, were still kissing.

"OI!"


	28. Truth At Last

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 28: Truth At Last.

* * *

The moments that followed were awkward to say the least. Breaking her kiss with Snape, Sarah blushed deeply and dropped her eyes squarely to the threads of the carpet on which she sat. When Ron had caught sight of them kissing, he had leapt to his feet, prepared to fight, while possessed with his immediate conviction that something was terribly wrong.

In the intervening moments, Ron continued to stare between the two of them, mouth agape, at a supreme loss for words. Harry contented himself with examining the ceiling panels in minute detail. Covert glances were being cast between Hermione and Ginny, as if to gauge each others' reactions; neither knew that the other had already been somewhat aware of the situation.

Meanwhile, Snape fixed a hard, cold stare to the Weasley boy, silently daring him, or anyone else, to speak out against the event they had just witnessed.

Ron did not meet Snape's eyes. Instead, his head swiveled about the room, from Ginny, to Harry, to Hermione, and back again, shocked that none of them had so much as noticed what had just happened. Indeed, he was the only one in the room that seemed surprised.

"You two were-," Ron spluttered, "You—- you-,"

"And so the last hippogriff finally crosses the finish line," Snape drawled with a smirk, "Bravo."

Ron blinked at Snape, and then resumed his searching glances around the room. Now, all of them were staring at him.

"You mean," Ron began, quite as red in the face as his hair, "You all-—,"

"Knew?" Hermione finished for him, placing a hand on his arm and coaxing him back onto the sofa, "We've all known for a while, Ron," she broke to him gently, correctly interpreting Ginny's apparent lack of astonishment, "We just didn't know how to tell you."

"Blimey," Ron exhaled, leaning forward and placing his head in his hands. He now bore the distinct look of someone who had just tried to do one too many loop-de-loops on their broom. Hermione began rubbing his back gently.

Harry and Ginny, meeting each others' eyes, were both trying to suppress tiny smiles. For weeks, they had secretly imagined what Ron's reaction might be upon hearing the news. Sarah, however, was not smiling. When she had gotten over her initial embarrassment, she looked to Ron, her expression pleading. Of all her friends, she had been the most concerned about _his_ reaction to her involvement with Snape. He was, after all, famous for his stubbornness.

When Hermione noticed this, she gave Ron a gentle nudge. He lifted his head. Most of the color had drained from his face.

When he saw the way Sarah was looking at him, he knew he had no choice but to accept it.

"Well," he muttered, glancing from Sarah and then to Snape, who was still glaring at him fiercely, "Cheers, I suppose," he finished, with a halfhearted raise of his glass. He then took an enormous swig.

With this, Sarah beamed, and threw her arms around Snape's neck. His expression softened as the girl embraced him. The tension apparently broken, Ron draped his arm around a smiling Hermione, and Harry pecked Ginny on the cheek before languidly stretching his arms over his head.

"Glad that's over," said Harry, yawning, "It was starting to get exhausting, pretending like nothing was going on."

"It's not as if you were the world's best Secret Keeper," Hermione teased him. She smirked as she recalled the occasion on which Harry accidentally let slip that something was going on between Sarah and Snape.

"Hey, I figured it out on my own, thank you very much!" Ginny added, laughing. Ron remained silent, continuing to look as if he had swallowed some particularly disgusting flobberworms.

"No one bothered to tell _me_, I suppose," he spoke glumly.

Both Hermione and Ginny chortled.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said between bouts of giggles, "You hadn't noticed they've been bunking together?"

Ron only grumbled and trailed off in response. Now it was _his_ turn to look thoroughly embarrassed.

With the girl's arms still wrapped around him, Snape's black eyes were darting about the room. It felt extremely strange for their relationship to be discussed so candidly, especially by present company. He looked a bit like a confused animal as he glanced back and forth, unable to relax completely, as everyone else finally had. Still, he felt somewhat relieved when casual conversation resumed.

He was more relaxed than he cared to admit as he lounged there on the floor next to the girl, their situation officially outed. The conversation continued for a while, but he was not listening; he merely watched how the girl's soft skin glowed in the firelight.

The New Year's Eve festivities continued until a loud chime of the clock alerted them that it was now one past midnight. After the chime had faded away, there was a long silence as each of them eyed their respective partners hopefully; it _was_ New Year's Eve, after all.

Snape broke the amorous silence with a loud clearing of his throat.

"It is quite late," he spoke up, "Perhaps we should all retire?"

In wordless agreement, everyone rose to their feet. After much stretching, the girls began exchanging hugs and wishing each other a happy and healthy New Year, and the men grasped hands as they wished each other the same. Harry shook Snape's hand easily, but Ron was a bit more hesitant. He shuffled nervously before extending his own hand.

"Happy New Year-, sir," he said. The amount of time he actually spent shaking Snape's hand was extremely brief.

Snape masked his bemusement extremely well.

"And to you," Snape replied.

With this, Snape waved the rest of them out of the room. As Ron turned to close the door behind him, he pretended not to notice the burning look in Snape's dark eyes as he looked to the girl.

The girl smiled up at him serenely. The corner of his mouth twisted upward slightly.

"So," he began, and his voice had now taken on a deep, silky tone. He slowly lowered himself onto the carpet beside her. "You had quite a few drinks, this evening. I would wager that you are fairly besotted."

Sarah snorted, trying to recall how many drinks she'd had. She had indeed found quite a weakness for the wonderful spirits produced in the wizarding world. Enough time had passed that she was now, at least, only buzzed. She began to blush as Snape loomed dangerously close to her.

"Oh yeah?" she smiled coyly, cocking her head at him, "How _besotted_ do you think I am?"

Snape was now only inches from her. When she met his eyes, she could see the fire clearly reflected in his gaze.

"Besotted enough to not have noticed when I slipped a certain potion into your last drink," he purred. He began gently brushing the girl's cheek with his fingertips. Her skin was warm, and he knew that it was more than their proximity to the fireplace. He leaned ever closer to her; their lips were almost touching now.

"And what potion might that have been?" she whispered. She shuddered at his touch.

"I believe you know which," he replied, his voice low, clearly communicating his deep desire for her. He then pressed his lips against hers, and when she smiled against him, he knew that he had her permission. He gently pushed her down to the plush carpet as his tongue gained access to her mouth, pinning her beneath him as they embraced each other, kissing deeply. As deep as he could kiss her, he could not get enough of her; she tasted as sweet as the mead she had been drinking all night, and he too drank her in like the sweetest of wines.

As his hands found their way up the girl's body, he began to kiss and lick his way down her neck. The girl turned her head to the side, baring herself to him. When she opened her eyes slightly, she could see the door.

"The door," she breathed, her thoughts barely coherent in her state of arousal and mild drunkenness, "Should we lock it?"

"Of course not," he said, his hot breath against her neck, causing her to close her eyes again, "All of your friends are as busy as we are. No one will bother us."

* * *

"And what explanation do you have for yourself?" a grim voice spoke, unsuccessfully trying to mask a great degree of anger, impatience, and annoyance.

The gaunt, violet-eyed man glanced up from his work; a yellowed piece of parchment lay unfurled on the desk before him, and the small bottle of his curious, red ink was unstoppered as he dipped a particularly sharp quill into its depths.

"I have told you before, I merely wished to test the girl's limits," the gaunt man explained, "To see if she is all she is _reputed_ to be, by _some_," violet eyes narrowed dangerously at the object of their gaze.

"And I assume you have ascertained this adequately?" the other voice hissed. "Need I explain myself again? Is everything clear?"

The violet-eyed man sighed, his quill beginning to scratch across the parchment.

"Perfectly clear," he said, unable to mask his own annoyance.

"That's right," the other man assured himself. He wrung his hands together in a manic sort of way. "It's not going to go wrong again."

* * *

After the winter holidays ended, the return to Hogwarts went smoothly. Sarah, since she had never done so before, was highly amused to ride the Hogwarts Express to the castle. She was as excited as a first year when then scarlet steam engine pulled up to Hogsmeade station, and she could see the castle's windows glimmering like diamonds in the distance; just the way she had seen them on the night when the mysterious castle had saved her life.

The first week back at the castle had also gone fairly smoothly. Unable to invent a better solution for Sarah's slight eye color problem, they had all decided that it was best to hide behind the veil of the fictional Occulopigmentitis; it sounded just confusing enough to deter any inquiries, and anyone who happened to ask Sarah about her strange new appearance seemed satisfied with her explanation. Luckily, her eyesight had returned to normal in the days following the incident at Archer Crescent, so she was spared the inconvenience of wearing glasses. Still, she took extra care to keep her eyes directed at the wall or the floor when she roamed the corridors during daylight hours. She did not want to invite any unnecessary suspicion.

It was now Friday morning, and Sarah, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione were all seated together in the Great Hall for breakfast. The girls were seated three across, and the boys sat opposite them on the other side of the table. Ron was yawning widely between his usual generous helpings of breakfast, and he had to pause in his eating several times to blearily rub his eyes.

"Snape's assignment get to you?" Harry asked, reaching for the pitcher of pumpkin juice. He shot a quick glance at Sarah, who seemed unfazed by the use of the slightly callous moniker; she had apparently accepted that this was simply what they were used to calling him in casual conversation. It was a difficult habit to break.

"Iwoupanighonnih," Ron's reply was caught up in the middle of another massive yawn. The girls sniggered. After another rub of his eyes, he started again. "I was up all night on it," he explained, "I mean, seriously, _two_ rolls of parchment on Chimeras and ways to fight them? I bet the git's never even seen one in his life." When he had finished, he looked up nervously in Sarah's direction.

To his relief, Sarah laughed.

"I don't blame you," she said, smiling, "He sounds like he really piles on the homework most of the time. I'm glad I'm not in his classes, I wouldn't know what to do with that much work."

Harry glanced up from his meal with a sly smile, and bit his tongue in order to refrain from pulling a joke about what type of homework Snape _usually_ gives her. He caught Ginny's eye briefly, and she was biting her lower lip in a sort of half smile; apparently she was thinking the exact same thing. Luckily, Sarah was busy with her scrambled eggs and did not see. Hermione, however, caught sight of them, and intervened before either of them could lose their resolve to remain quiet.

"He assigned it on _Monday_, Ron," she chided him, "You had all week to get it done, it didn't have to wait until last night."

Ron had no retort for this, and helped himself to another slice of bacon.

Suddenly, the Hall was filled with a great fluttering of wings; the post owls had arrived. During the first week after holidays, there always seemed to be a lot of them, toting packages filled with items that students had forgotten to bring back to school.

Routinely, no one so much as looked up when a sleek-looking barn owl landed on the table before them, carrying Hermione's copy of _The Daily Prophet_. After she had paid the bird, it flapped its wings powerfully and took off again, noisily sending several utensils askew.

After the barn owl had departed, however, everyone looked up in surprise as a large, inky-black raven landed on their midst, clutching a piece of folded parchment firmly in its beak. For a moment, it regarded all of them. Then, it looked at Sarah, blinked, and dropped the parchment; it floated haphazardly onto Hermione's plate. Its missive delivered, the raven took flight again. Their eyes followed it up toward the ceiling before it disappeared through the same exit that the owls had used.

When it was gone, all eyes were on the piece of parchment, lying neatly on Hermione's toast. She slowly reached out for it, and held it gingerly, as if she were afraid it might bite her. She regarded it for a few moments before turning to Sarah.

"It's—- it's for you," she said, nervously holding the piece of parchment out to the long-haired girl on her left.

Sarah quirked an eyebrow and took the parchment from Hermione. Sure enough, scrawled on its surface in thick, crimson ink, were the words _Sarah Garrend_. Without hesitation, Sarah unfolded the parchment and read the message inside. All of her friends were staring intently at her. A grim air seemed to settle over all of them as they watched her become extremely pale. Her jaw fell open, and she began to shake slightly.

"What?" Harry said, his tone forceful. He sat forward. "What is it?"

Without speaking, Sarah looked up at him. She looked as if she were about to be sick. With a trembling hand, she held the piece of parchment out to him. He took it quickly and held it close to his eyes as he read it.

_You are to come, unescorted by anyone, invisible or otherwise, to the following address at midnight, tonight, or the family on Archer Crescent dies._

Harry did not bother to read the address that followed before he looked up at Sarah again with an expression of shock. By now, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were growing quite impatient over what had just transpired, and they leaned forward and craned their necks in an attempt to see the parchment. Ron reached out for it, and Harry did not protest; soon, it had been passed between all of them.

"I knew it couldn't be good, I knew it would be something like this!" said Hermione. She looked to be on the verge of tears. Her eyes were glued to the parchment, and she shook her head back and forth.

"How could you have?" Harry asked. He was the one now holding the parchment. "How could you have known it was a death threat against-," Harry paused uncomfortably. Up to this point, it had mostly been an unspoken fact. It had certainly never been discussed openly and at length. "—-against Sarah's family?"

"It came by raven," Hermione explained, "things that come by raven are _never_ good."

"How do you figure?" Ron asked. His meal, surprisingly, was forgotten, in lieu of the serious situation facing them.

Hermione took a deep breath. Harry, Ron, and Ginny all looked at her expectantly; they instinctively knew when she was about to provide an explanation of something.

"Ravens are typically only used as post carriers by witches or wizards who are-," she paused thoughtfully, "Less than reputable. All of them are completely black. They lack the distinctive marking patterns or colors that owls have. It makes them almost impossible to trace back to their owners."

Harry's eyes narrowed at the parchment; he had only now bothered to read the address.

"That's in London," he said, a deep crease having formed between his brows, "In the same neighborhood as the Ministry, I think."

"What am I supposed to do?" Sarah asked, her voice weak. She took a shaky breath, but before she could speak any more, Ginny spoke up.

"You're not going alone, if that's what you think," she said, her tone full of conviction. She fixed a fiery stare on Sarah. "Harry's cloak-,"

Harry shook his head back and forth quickly, and cut her off.

"You saw the letter," he said, "They'll know if someone comes with her underneath the cloak. If she shows up with someone, they'll probably go ahead and kill her family."

"What if a couple of us go to Archer Crescent before midnight?" Ron suggested, eyeing his friends hopefully, "To stop anyone coming in there?"

Hermione shook her head, and Harry knew exactly what she was thinking.

"They'll be ready for that too," Harry said, "I'd be willing to bet they still have someone watching the place."

Sarah hung her head between her hands. She could see no way out of this situation, except for complying with the letter's demands.

"I don't have a choice, then," she said slowly. "I'll have to do it."

"No," Harry objected, "That's not going to happen." He looked up; most of the other students had already cleared out. Morning classes would be starting in just a few minutes. "Look," he continued, "We've got to get to class. Hold on to this, and don't do anything rash," he said. Their benches began scraping as all of them stood up. "We've got all day. We'll figure something out. Don't worry."

"Alright," Sarah gave a resigned sigh, even though she could not picture any scenario in which she would not have to report to London, alone, at midnight. As they left, her friends gave her reassuring pats on her shoulders.

Soon, she was seated in the Great Hall, quite alone, her head swimming. The long House tables had long since cleared themselves of dishes. It was with great effort that she finally lifted herself off of the bench on which she sat, and began trudging her way back to the Room of Requirement.

When she reached the seventh floor, however, she was met with another surprise. As she rounded a corner, a tall boy with white-blonde hair and a pointed face popped out in front of her, almost as if he had Apparated there. He was grinning broadly, but his expression shifted to one of concern when he saw had badly he had startled the girl before him.

"Draco," Sarah panted. She stumbled backward, her heart thundering in her ears. If anyone, she had been expecting one of the dark, mysterious, hooded figures to appear in front of her.

Draco's arms immediately shot outward to steady her.

"I'm sorry," he said, a hint of laughter in his voice, "I didn't mean to frighten you like this."

After a few moments, Sarah regained her composure, and mustered a weak smile.

"Have a good holiday?" Draco continued, taking his hands off of Sarah's shoulders and scratching the back of his neck in a slightly awkward fashion.

Frightening visions of her mysterious, hooded attackers swam across Sarah's mind, but she blinked them away.

"Yeah, yeah," she supplied quickly, "It was alright, how was yours?"

"Fine, I suppose," Draco replied, "A bit annoying, sometimes," he said, shifting nervously. "Father's—-," he cut himself off, searching for words, "In a bit of a mood."

Sarah resisted the urge to ask whether or not his father was still under extensive investigation and house arrest. It was only on Harry's word, she remembered, that his family had been spared a lifetime in Azkaban.

Sarah smiled weakly. Almost instantly, her mind was once again consumed with the words written on the letter which now rested in one of the pockets inside her robes. Draco must have noticed how pale and clammy she looked, for he tilted his head, and his brows furrowed.

"Are you alright?" he asked, regarding her carefully.

Sarah looked up, straight at Draco, whose eyes immediately widened. He had only just noticed that her eyes were bright red. With a wince, her eyes darted down to her boots.

"Occulopigmentitis," she supplied mechanically, "Magical illness, very uncommon, causes eye color to change spontaneously, not contagious at all," she trailed off. She was very practiced at it by now.

Draco's eyes narrowed at her; something told him that her strange new illness wasn't entirely what was bothering her.

"Are you sure that's all?" he asked. He then quickly glanced up and scanned the corridor behind him to be sure that they were quite alone. The last thing he wanted was for one of her Gryffindor pals to happen across them while engaged in polite conversation.

Sarah looked up again, straight into Draco's light gray eyes; she knew how much of an effort he had made with her to turn over a new leaf. She knew she couldn't tell him an outright lie, but she couldn't tell him the whole truth, either.

"I've sort of got a problem," Sarah explained. "And I'm not sure what to do about it."

Draco struck a contemplative stance. His eyes drifted upward for a few moments, and then back down again.

"Well," he said, obviously making a sincere effort to help, "The best advice I can give you, is that when I felt overwhelmed, I really wish that I had asked people for help instead of keeping it to myself, you know?"

Unbeknownst to him, Sarah knew his history. She beamed up at him, knowing that he too had wanted to tell her something without revealing the whole truth.

"That's some pretty good advice, Draco," she said, "Thank you."

Draco nodded, looking satisfied with himself.

The two of them continued to chat for a short while. Sarah had managed to convinced him that she had simply gotten lost on her way to the library, and Draco gallantly obliged to escort her there. As soon as they had exchanged farewells, however, Sarah darted back up to the seventh floor and sealed herself within her room, pacing restlessly. Whatever was to happen tonight, she knew it would not be good.

* * *

It was now nearing the end of dinner. Sarah, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were once again seated together in the Great Hall, though none of them had been able to eat a bite of food since breakfast. Instead, they had spend their entire day anguishing over what to do about the mysterious missive Sarah had received. Unfortunately, none of them had been able to come up with a definitive solution to the problem. They all sat there, pale, nervous, and shaky; Sarah's head was resting in her hands.

"I don't have a choice," she voiced again, "I'll have to go."

She was immediately met with much head shaking and general airs of disapproval.

"You can't," Hermione choked out, sounding exasperated, "Who knows what they'll do to you? You just can't."

Harry, lost in thought, was absently scanning the Hall around him. Their strange behavior seemed to be attracting a moderate amount of attention. A small handful of students from the different House tables were occasionally glancing in their direction.

"Come on," he urged them, standing up as quietly as possible, "We're looking suspicious."

As inconspicuously as possible, all five of them excused themselves from the Gryffindor table and retreated into the dark, quiet sanctity of the castle's entrance hall. As soon as they were all gathered, Harry spun on his heel to face them.

"We have to tell Snape," he announced, his voice echoing a little more loudly than he would have liked. "He'll know what to do." This was not strictly true, but Harry had a great deal of respect for the man's ability to deal with dangerous, complicated situations and come out intact. It had become clear to him that they needed help, and Snape was the first place to start.

When no one protested, they all marched silently toward the dungeons.

* * *

Snape, as usual, was seated at his desk when the loud knock sounded on the worn wooden panels of his door. _She must be especially eager to see me tonight,_ he thought with a wry smile.

"Enter," he called.

The door creaked open, and to his surprise, it was not the girl; instead, Potter made his way into the office. He was followed by the Weasley children, the Granger girl, and finally, Sarah trailed in behind them. When all five of them stood in the threshold, he raised his eyebrows, his hands folded upon his desk.

"I do not recall agreeing to teach group lessons," he remarked snidely, "I am afraid your friends will have to speak to me privately if they require extra help, Miss Garrend," he finished, unable to keep himself from maintaining his formal air with the girl while in the company of others, especially in his professional office.

When his eyes came to rest on the girl, however, he became worried.

"What is the matter?" he demanded, rising from his chair. It scraped loudly against the stone floor.

Wordlessly, all of them approached the large wooden desk. Potter stepped forward, his arm outstretched; he was holding a scrap of parchment. Snape snatched it from him and unfolded it impatiently, but a sharp intake of breath failed to belie his unconcern.

"When did you get this?" he asked loudly. Strictly in force of habit, he glared at Potter.

"This morning, at breakfast," the girl spoke up.

"It came by raven," Hermione added, knowing that this bit of information would be of some significance.

Several moments of silence passed. Snape, gripping the parchment tightly, paced back and forth behind his desk before he addressed them again.

"We are going to the Headmistress," he announced at last, and when Potter began to object, he added, "And Dumbledore." He then handed the note back to the girl, who buried it in her pocket.

Leaving Snape's dungeon office, all of them began the lengthy trek to the Headmistress' tower. None of them spoke a word on the way. Harry's hands groped nervously in his pockets; as soon as Sarah had received the mysterious letter at breakfast, he had been carrying the invisibility cloak with him, convinced that trouble was apt to present itself at any moment.

When they reached the gargoyle which guarded the entrance, Snape paused.

"Tabby," he spoke clearly, and the gargoyle leapt aside, revealing the rising, spiral staircase beyond.

Reaching the door, Snape rounded on all of them. His jaw was clenched tightly as he searched for words, but Potter cut him off before he could speak.

"We're coming in," Harry spoke with conviction, "_All_ of us."

Snape exhaled sharply through his nose; he knew there could be no arguing with the boy. After an irritated glare, he turned, and knocked three times upon the door to the Headmistress' office. When they were beckoned inside by Professor McGonagall's voice, Snape threw the door open and marched inside purposefully, the rest of the entourage following behind him.

The office was cheerfully lit, and nothing but the blackness of night was visible beyond the room's high windows. Many of the surrounding portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses looked slightly affronted at such a sudden intrusion so late in the evening. Professor McGonagall, already wearing her tartan dressing gown, looked up at them, thoroughly perplexed.

"My goodness, Severus," she began, approaching the elegant wooden table on which her wizarding wireless rested. She reached out for one of its knobs, turning it so the device issued a great deal of static, and then clicked off. "Surely they can't all have earned detention at the same time?"

"We are not here on school business, Minerva," Snape announced, his tone serious. His eyes angled upward, and he did not fail to notice how Albus Dumbledore, sitting securely in his portrait, was regarding them with the utmost concern.

Professor McGonagall automatically glanced at Sarah.

"What has happened, Severus?" she asked earnestly.

"That is precisely what I would like to know," Snape replied, but instead of addressing Professor McGonagall, his neck was craned upward; he was addressing Dumbledore. "Do not think for a moment that I have not seen the way you have looked at this girl, Dumbledore," he continued, pointing an accusatory finger in Sarah's direction, "Tell us what you know, for there are lives at stake this night."

Dumbledore frowned at them. He had been dreading this moment, hoping that it would never come, hoping that things would work themselves out without conflict. Apparently, his hopes had been in vain. He sighed down at all of them from his portrait, a hand pushing his half moon spectacles farther up his long, crooked nose.

"In order for us to reach an understanding," he began calmly, "I believe that _you_ must first oblige me by telling me what _you_ know. I can hear the news over the wireless as well as anyone, and I am lucky enough to glimpse the headlines when Minerva leaves her _Prophets_ out on the desk. Recent events have not escaped my notice," he finished.

Before Dumbledore had stopped speaking, his piercing blue eyes had come to rest squarely on Harry, who shifted slightly under their gaze. They still gave him the strange feeling that he was being x-rayed. With only half a moment's hesitation, he girded himself and stepped forward, coming to stand next to Snape.

"All right, it was us, we did all of that stuff," he rattled off, "Sarah and I were the ones who broke into the Ministry and Gringotts," Harry admitted openly. Somehow, it felt good to admit their trespasses, like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Unfortunately, the breath had escaped from Professor McGonagall's lungs, and she was now clutching her chest with one hand, and struggling to support herself on the edge of her desk with the other. Harry rushed forward to steady her while Snape strode easily around the other side of the desk, grabbed the high-backed chair that rested behind it, and pushed it to where Professor McGonagall stood.

"Why would you do such things?" McGonagall asked, shocked, and shaking slightly as she lowered herself down into the chair. Her tone was more surprised and stern than it was angry. "Especially considering that you very well knew the dangers inherent in both from prior experience! And to endanger _her_ in such a manner, Potter," she continued, gesturing at Sarah, "That was extremely reckless of you! You are both lucky to be alive!"

"We had to, Professor," Harry implored her, "And you have no idea how true that is, after what happened."

Professor McGonagall remained silent, glaring expectantly at Harry.

Harry took a deep breath. With a brief glance upward to Dumbledore's portrait, he began to explain at length, in full detail, about everything that had happened to them, from what they found in the Ministry, breaking into Gringotts, to the ambush on Archer Crescent that followed and the refuge they took at Spinner's End, all the way up to the incident on Christmas Eve. Occasionally Snape would impatiently add a detail or two, and Sarah spoke up meekly now and then when Harry painstakingly recounted her mysterious lapses in memory, and what had happened in between.

For much of the story, Dumbledore's eyes were closed as if he were deep in thought, trying to envision the events in his own mind. He already had a very good idea that Harry had been behind the events, be he remained quiet. He did not speak until Harry finally fell silent. When he opened his eyes again, Sarah bore the brunt of his piercing gaze.

"Your wrist, may I see it?" he asked politely.

Slowly, Sarah stepped forward. Tearing the wrappings around her right forearm, she raised it up to him. He leaned forward in his portrait and nodded slowly as he examined it.

Professor McGonagall had also leaned forward in her chair to get a better look at it. She was extremely pale; the details of what had been happening to Potter and Miss Garrend, as well as Severus' apparent involvement with the girl, were difficult to digest.

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, though they had already heard the story once before, did not look any happier to hear it a second time. They shifted nervously where they stood, eager for answers.

Snape, meanwhile, was still glaring upward at Dumbledore's portrait. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest. He knew the old man still had more to say.

"We only wanted to find out the truth," Harry reiterated, still glancing pleadingly at Professor McGonagall, "I thought she deserved as much."

"She certainly does deserve as much," McGonagall said tersely, "But at what cost? The two of you could have-,"

"Been killed, we know," Harry repeated tiredly. "But that's why we're here. More people are going to be killed tonight if we don't do something. We didn't know where else to turn."

Dumbledore closed his eyes again, his expression grave. While the boy told his story, he had been piecing together in his mind a rudimentary puzzle of what might be going on, even though he lacked all of the pieces. Whoever was after the girl had already failed their objective twice, whatever that objective may be. He knew what the obvious next step might be.

"Did you receive a direct threat?" Dumbledore asked, gazing down at the girl again.

Sarah nodded. Plunging her hand into one of the outer pockets of her robes, she extracted the note she had received at breakfast. Unfolding it, she read it aloud for everyone's benefit. Professor McGonagall gasped and clutched at her chest again. Sarah looked at the poor woman apologetically, glad that she was already sitting down. She folded the note and stowed it in her pocket once more.

Upon hearing the contents of the note again, Harry suddenly turned his wrist upward in order to look at the starry-faced watch he wore. There was still just under four hours left until midnight; plenty of time to figure _something_ out, he assured himself.

"And the article that you stole from the Ministry's vault at Gringotts," Dumbledore continued, "Do you have it with you?"

Sarah blinked, and then looked to Harry. He looked momentarily surprised, but then began patting down all of the pockets in his robes. He found the parchment folded and tucked safely inside an inner pocket; he had forgotten completely that he had been carrying it around. When he had extracted it, he stepped forward. Unfolding it, he held it up to Dumbledore's view.

Dumbledore's expression, if possible, turned even graver. Noting the old man's expression, Harry gave a grimace of concern, and set the parchment down on the edge of the desk, stepping back.

"Minerva, I have a favor I must ask of you," Dumbledore said.

"What is it, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked, raising herself out of the high-backed chair with effort.

"I need you to enter the Quill Room-,"

"But Albus, the current term is not even over yet, it can't possibly be time to retrieve the new-,"

"As Headmistress of this school, the room will allow you entrance at any time of the year," he spoke up, "I need you to enter the room and kindly retrieve the registry for the year of nineteen-eighty."

Looking just as confused as every other occupant of her office, Professor McGonagall bustled her way through the door and out of sight, leaving everyone else to stew in silence. Snape continued to stare up at Dumbledore, but the old wizard did not meet his eyes.

As impatient as Severus was, much, Albus knew, would become clear in just a few moments.

Time positively crawled as they awaited Professor McGonagall's return. Sarah stood rooted on the spot. Her head was slowly filling with a kind of buzzing, and she could feel her blood pulsing through her strongly. She felt slightly sick, as if, deep down, she somehow knew what was about to happen. Harry eyed her nervously. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, all standing very close together, did not even dare to whisper.

It felt as if a good half an hour might have passed when Professor McGonagall reappeared, holding in her arms what appeared to be a modestly-sized roll of parchment, with a long, fine-looking piece of wood at its center. She moved toward the desk, where she looked up at Dumbledore's portrait.

"Thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore said kindly, though his expression hadn't improved. "Now, if you would please, unroll it."

With slightly trembling hands, Professor McGonagall gripped the very end of the roll and let the rest of it fall to the floor as it unfurled itself before their eyes. It bounced along the floor merrily as it unraveled, but half way through, the parchment split cleanly in two, almost as if someone had haphazardly attacked it with a scissor. The rest of the scroll, separated from its other half, continued to skip along the floor until it came to rest against the spindle-legged table on which Professor McGonagall's wizarding wireless sat.

Before a word could be spoken, Harry stepped forward to retrieve the other part of the scroll. Picking it up, he unfurled it. There, written in neat black ink, were names, all of them familiar. They were the names of his friends and classmates. Even his own name was present there.

"What is this?" he asked, looking up from the parchment. He saw that Snape was no longer glaring at Dumbledore; instead, his deep, black eyes were resting on the scrap of parchment on the desk. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall had once again sank down into her high-backed chair, looking as pale and as shocked as ever.

With a sudden swoop of realization, Harry rushed forward, scroll in hand. He grabbed the piece of parchment from the desk and knelt down to where the roll of parchment had come apart. Placing the other half of the scroll on the carpet, he smoothed it out so it rested flat.

Then, shaking hands replaced the missing piece to its original home; the piece of parchment which bore Sarah's name, as well as the Surrey address of Archer Crescent, fit perfectly into the gap. It had been torn from this very scroll.

"This is the record of births from the year of nineteen-eighty," Dumbledore explained, "A registry of the names of each witch and wizard born during the year who would someday receive a letter to attend Hogwarts."

"What?" Sarah breathed, her voice less than a whisper. Her feet suddenly feeling extremely heavy, she stepped forward and fell to her knees beside Harry, watching how perfectly the piece of parchment which bore her name fit into the gap. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had silently crowded in from behind in order to see.

Even Snape had moved closer, but his eyes were not on the scroll; they were on the girl. She was trembling visibly, and she had dug her fingers into the plush carpeting as if she were trying to tear it up from the floor.

Professor McGonagall was at a loss for words.

"You mean her name was there the whole time?" Ron blurted out with his usual knack for bluntness. He sounded incredulous.

"What is going on here?" Snape demanded, craning his neck upward to look at Dumbledore's portrait. There was an angry sneer painted across his face, as if he were already placing outright blame on the old man.

Harry, regaining his presence of mind, stood up.

"Why didn't you tell us about this?" Harry spoke, resisting the urge to shout. He was on the verge of speech for a moment before Dumbledore patiently raised a hand to silence him.

"It was only a suspicion of mine," Dumbledore began, "It has been many years since that piece of parchment was torn from the registry scroll. Even if my suspicions were correct, I believed it best to remain silent. Some truths are better off remaining unknown."

Harry could muster no response. He could not help but think that perhaps Dumbledore was right; maybe Sarah would have been better off never knowing that her family was alive. She certainly would have been better off without all the trouble finding out had gotten them into.

Before anyone spoke again, Sarah raised herself to her feet, but her head was hung extremely low. Her face was invisible behind the curtains of her long, straight hair. She was still trembling slightly, and her hands were clenched in fists as her sides. Harry watched her, his expression pained. Just as he had felt on the night when they had discovered her family, he could find no words to console her, no words to properly encompass the gravity of the situation.

"Who is responsible for this?" Snape demanded fiercely, pointing to the scroll. He was still glaring at Dumbledore in a way that made it clear he thought the old man was to blame somehow. He had, after all, been Headmaster of the school at the time the girl's name had been stricken from the registry.

"Severus, perhaps it would be best for the girl to-," Dumbledore started calmly, but was promptly cut off by Snape.

"_Who?_"

Dumbledore sighed sadly.

"I am afraid that, many years ago, the Ministry-,"

"_The Ministry?_" a voice ground out. It sounded strange; somewhere between a hiss and a growl. It took everyone a moment to realize that it had come from Sarah.

Dumbledore was the only one who was not taken aback. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Sarah spoke first.

"_The Ministry did this to me?_" she hissed. Her voice was almost unrecognizable. Her clenched fists were shaking at her sides as she squeezed them even tighter. Veins became etched on the backs of her hands.

"You must know the full story behind the events," Dumbledore pressed on more loudly, making it clear how much he wanted the girl to hear everything he had to say.

Harry, however, watching Sarah's rage steadily increasing, knew that she would have none of it; instead, he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he almost knew what was about to happen next. Instinctively, he jerked forward to seize her, but he was too late.

Sarah's head turned suddenly in the direction of the window immediately to her left, and without hesitating, she ran toward it at a full sprint. Then, with her arms crossed protectively before her face and elbows pointed outward, she leapt straight through it with a great, shattering crash. Tall shards of glass showered down behind her.

Hermione and Ginny screamed in unison. Ron swore loudly while Professor McGonagall shot to her feet with a shriek. Only Snape and Harry seemed to remain somewhat calm, both aware of her fledgling ability at flight. They rushed forward together toward the broken window. Harry reached it first and leaned out of it slightly in order to peer downward. In the darkness, he could see Sarah's form shrinking away from him. As she neared the edge of another tower during her descent, Harry flinched, afraid that she would strike it; instead, she deftly landed and leapt further downward.

It only took her a few seconds to leap her way down the castle's walls. When she hit the snowy ground beneath, Harry watched, with Snape over his shoulder, as she streaked off into the night with frightening speed.

"Is she—- is she dead?" Hermione choked out. Tears were welling up in her eyes.

"No," Snape said brusquely as he and Harry stepped away from the window.

"Where in the bloody hell is she going?" Harry asked, looking aghast at Snape.

"Where do you think she is going?" he snapped in reply.

"We have to go after her!" Harry shouted. As soon as the words had left his mouth, Ginny appeared at his side, making it clear that she was not about to be parted with him. He opened his mouth to protest, but Ginny's glare made it clear that there would be no arguing.

Snape's eyes were darting rapidly between all of them, assessing the situation.

"Potter, your cloak," he said, holding out his hand.

Harry quickly pulled the invisibility cloak from inside his robes and handed it over.

"Granger, Weasley," Snape barked, tossing the flowing cloak into Ron's arms, "You are to go to the address written on that piece of parchment and prevent anyone from entering that house."

Ron and Hermione, their expressions steely after receiving their orders, each nodded once before they dashed out of the office.

"You two," Snape continued, stepping back toward the window and producing his wand from within his robes, "Hold on tight. We are going down."

Harry and Ginny positioned themselves on either side of him as he stood before the broken window, locking arms tightly. Before they could make the leap, however, Dumbledore's voice issued from behind them.

"Return to me, should you retrieve her," he said, sounding incredibly tired. "The situation is far worse than any of you can possibly know."

Snape did not deign to reply. Instead, he let himself fall forward, pulling Potter and the Weasley girl with him.

As Harry felt himself become weightless in the fall, he thought to himself that he had rarely heard Dumbledore's voice sound so somber. He watched calmly as the ground beneath rushed up to meet them. When they grew closer to it, Snape flicked his wand, bringing them to rest safely in the snow.

"Quickly," he commanded, sprinting in the direction of the Forbidden Forest, his robes billowing.

Harry and Ginny chased after him, moving their legs as quickly as they possibly could. It was a few moments of running before Harry realized that they were following the trail of footprints that Sarah had carved through the snow mere moments before. He did not have much time to register how widely her footprints were spaced apart; he was taking three or four strides for every one of hers. She must have been moving terribly fast.

When they reached the perimeter of the school's grounds, they were all panting hard, sucking in lungfuls of freezing winter air. Their throats burned. Harry and Ginny locked arms with Snape once again, and before they had time to catch their breath, the air was squeezed out of them as Snape turned on the spot, pulling them into the crushing blackness.

* * *

Two uniformed men were milling about in the Atrium of the Ministry. The huge hall was darkened, most of the lights having been extinguished after normal work hours had ended. All of the other Ministry employees, save for them, had already left hours ago.

"I hate Friday nights," one of the men groused. He was seated on an uncomfortable-looking wooden stool pressed up against the wall.

"Why's that?" asked the other man. He was slowly pacing back and forth a few feet away, twiddling his wand in his fingers.

"Everyone else gets to knock off early, and we're stuck here all night," the man seated on the stool replied. He shifted his weight a little in an effort to recline against the wall; the legs of the stool creaked ominously.

"Shouldn't have taken a job as a night watchman, then, I reckon," the pacing man said with a slight roll of his eyes.

The man seated on the stool cleared his throat in the awkward silence that followed.

"So," he began, "Did you hear who the Cannons made a bid for? Things might finally be looking up for them this season if the deal-,"

He was cut off by what sounded like a loud, distant explosion.

The pacing man turned on his heel in the direction of the noise. It came from the entrance area, where Ministry employees arrived at work after flushing themselves in.

"What was _that_?"

"Dunno," said the other man, jumping off the stool.

The noise came again, even louder than before; the floor beneath their feet trembled slightly. Wands at the ready, both men rushed forward toward the source of the commotion.

Unfortunately, when they reached the entrance, the wall before them exploded, blasting them backward a considerable distance before they tumbled and skidded to a stop. Shakily regaining their feet, they pointed their wands directly at the huge hole in the crumbling wall. Only a crouched shadow was visible beyond the screen of smoke and dust.

"You there, drop your wand and come out with your hands above your head!" one of the men shouted. "Don't make any sudden movements!"

"You are under arrest for destruction of Ministry property!" shouted the other.

Nothing happened. Both of the men cast quick, sideways glances at one another.

"Come out with your hands up!" one of them repeated.

Suddenly, what appeared to be a pair of glowing, scarlet eyes appeared, staring out at them from the unsettled dust and smoke. The eyes rose higher, unblinking, as the shadowy figure straightened up from the ground.

"This is your last warning! We are prepared to use force!" the other man shouted, but he was unable to mask a slight falter in his voice.

Far too rapidly for either of them to react, a swirling bolt of red light shot out from the darkness, striking one of the men squarely in the chest. With a loud yell, he was blasted backward off his feet. He flew a considerable distance before he landed hard, and did not move.

"_Stupefy!_" his partner yelled, retaliating as quickly as he could, but he watched in wide-eyed horror as the shadowy figure batted his spell away. Before he could act to defend himself, he too had been struck. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

* * *

When Harry's lungs mercifully re-expanded, he doubled over slightly. His eyes searched the area around the place where they had Apparated, hoping in vain that Sarah would be there, waiting. He was unsurprised when she was nowhere in sight. He fast recognized their surroundings. They were near the entrance to the Ministry that he and Sarah had used for their heist; the Ministry had continued using the public toilets as an entrance ever since the days of heightened security under Voldemort's regime.

Without a word, Snape took off again at a run, and Harry and Ginny struggled to keep up with him.

Harry's exhaustion was quickly forgotten when he neared the Ministry entrance.

Instead of the inconspicuous public toilets, they found a smoking crater. Apparently being unable to flush herself in without the specialized tokens used by Ministry employees, Sarah had simply blasted her way inside. This was no small feat, Harry realized; there had to have been some pretty powerful enchantments put in place in order to keep Muggles from inadvertently winding up inside the Ministry.

"Oh no," Ginny said, shaking her head at the damage. "What has she done?"

"I will tell you what she has done," Snape said impatiently, "She has committed a major breach of Ministry security. This area will be swarming with Ministry personnel any moment. We must not be seen, and we need to find Sarah and get out of here, lest the Aurors find her first! Quickly!" he finished, motioning forward. He then ran full ahead into the crater and leapt, disappearing through the smoke.

After exchanging a moment nervous eye contact, Harry and Ginny followed suit.

Harry was caught off guard; after leaping into the crater, he fell a considerable distance before he hit a sort of sloping wall and tumbled the rest of the way downward. Ginny tumbled down on top of him, and they landed in a heap on the smooth, glossy floor of the Atrium. When Harry lifted his head, he could see that it was strewn with rubble. It looked as if a bomb had gone off.

Snape was already several strides ahead of them. Harry quickly jumped to his feet and helped Ginny to hers, and they began chasing after Snape once more. Harry's heart was pounding in his ears as fear gripped him. He wasn't sure who he was more afraid for; Sarah, or the Aurors who might try to apprehend her if he, Snape, and Ginny didn't find her in time. He also thought of Ron and Hermione, and another jolt of fear shot through him. All he could do was pray that his cloak would keep them safe from whatever might be waiting for them at Archer Crescent.

"How do you suggest finding her?" Harry panted, jogging alongside Snape.

"Just follow the trail," Snape said grimly.

Harry swore as a pair of uniformed Ministry personnel came into view. They were both lying prone on the glossy floor, unmoving. Harry ran over to one and knelt down to check for a pulse, and Ginny did the same.

"Still alive," Ginny called over.

Harry nodded in reply, indicating that he too had found a pulse. A short-lived wave of relief washed over him. At least Sarah was not responsible for killing a Ministry security agent… _Yet_, he added morosely to himself. Snape, who hadn't bothered to stop, was now several strides ahead of them again.

Just as Snape had said, they had quite a trail to follow. Sarah had torn and blasted her way through the Ministry's main hall. When they came to the golden grilles before the lifts, one of them had been quite literally bent open by tremendous force, and the lift was absent. Snape approached the empty chasm and peered downward; she had blasted the lift apart, and its wreckage was lying at the bottom of the lift chamber. She must have proceeded through the lift maze on foot.

"Now what?" Harry whispered, but Snape promptly shushed him. Harry glared at him in reply.

"Listen," Snape whispered back.

Harry leaned forward and strained his ears. Sure enough, he could hear echoes of distant rumbles and blasts echoing through the lift passage.

"Come on!" Snape said, carefully lowering himself into the passage. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he was off running again. After helping Ginny down before him, Harry followed.

Together they wound their way through the complicated maze of lift passages, turning this way and that, directing themselves toward the source of the distant sounds as they grew louder. A few times, Ginny and Harry had to lock arms with Snape again as he allowed them to ascend and descend through the passages with ease. When they finally emerged, they found another set of golden lift grilles lying twisted on the ground.

Harry could not tell which floor he was on; it might have been a floor of the Ministry that he had not been to before, or it might have been so badly damaged that he could not recognize it. There was rubble everywhere, and thick clouds of dust and smoke were hanging in the air. Harry made to rush forward into the darkness, but Snape's arm shot out to stop him.

All three of them stood quite still, listening. From somewhere up ahead, there came another noise. It sounded like shifting rubble. Snape gave a silent nod and began to proceed forward slowly.

"Sarah?" he spoke out, his deep voice resonating. With a glance to Potter and the Weasley girl, he jerked his head forward, encouraging them.

Harry nodded once.

"Sarah? Where are you?" Harry asked aloud, squinting in an attempt to see through the dust and smoke. He began to walk forward beside Snape, with Ginny close to him.

"Are you alright?" Ginny called. She grabbed Harry's hand with her own as they walked onward into the dust.

Up ahead, some more rubble shifted.

They pressed onward through the dust until they came to a point where it cleared; there, further down the hall, stood Sarah, her back facing them. She was standing quite still, as if she hadn't heard them at all.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief to see that there were not any more Ministry employees lying at her feet. Ginny was the one who dared to speak first.

"Sarah, we-,"

She fell deathly silent as Sarah's head jerked back to look over her shoulder at them. Her eyes were ablaze, glowing completely red; her face was twisted in a silent snarl.

Without speaking a word, she spun around, her hand outstretched; an arc of red light shot toward Ginny with blinding quickness.

Ginny shrieked and did not react in time. She was inches away from being struck when she felt Harry's body slam into her, pinning her to the ground. The stunner streaked above their heads and exploded on the wall.

The girl had attacked with such speed that not even Snape had been able to react in time. Luckily, however, he flicked his wand and summoned a powerful shield charm, separating them from the girl. A second spell struck the shield with a loud clang.

"Stop it, stop it!" Harry shouted, pulling Ginny to her feet, "_Protego!_" he added his own shield charm to strengthen Snape's, and Ginny mimicked him. "It's us, it's us!"

Sarah let out an enraged yell, and her hand shot forward again, sending a dazzling arc of yellow light toward them. It struck the shield and made a sound reminiscent of an electrical transformer exploding; the shield shrunk considerably, and bolts of residual energy shot off wildly, ricocheting off the walls, cracking and scorching tiles as they went. On the other side, Snape, Harry, and Ginny all renewed their shield charms with fervor, but Sarah continued to hack away at it powerfully. They were fighting a losing battle. Soon they would have no shield left.

"We will have to subdue her!" Snape shouted above the din, renewing his shield charm again in vain. The girl's assault on the shield was creating a tremendous amount of noise.

"Attack her? But-,"

"Do it! _Now!_" Snape roared.

There was no time to think about it. A split second later, Snape's shield broke, and the girl's next spell was headed directly for them. Three stunners were shot back at her in retaliation. One of them struck her spell in midair, exploding in a shower of burning sparks. When the other two reached her, she deflected both of them into the walls on either side, covering herself in another screen of dust and smoke. She was momentarily out of sight before she leapt out at them again, and her fists were wreathed in flame; when she drove them into the floor like hammers, a wall of flame erupted before her, filling the hallway and crashing forward like an ocean wave.

Harry swore, and along with Ginny, began trying to shield themselves again, but when the flame reached their shields, it consumed them wholly. Snape was making incredibly complicated movements with his wand, and he shouted a word that Harry did not recognize; he suddenly felt as if someone had doused him with ice water, and when the flame advanced on them, it harmlessly passed them over. When they could see Sarah again, all three of them were dueling her in earnest.

Snape was soon fighting with the same ferocity that he had shown the vampire, and with Harry and Ginny's aid, he began gaining ground on the girl, taking small steps forward. The girl was backpeddling, and Harry suddenly had an idea. He raised his wand with a flourish, aiming not at her, but slightly behind.

"_Reducto_!"

The small patch of floor behind Sarah exploded, leaving a small crater, but she was too focused on her aggressors to notice it in time. As she took another step backward, her balance was lost, and she was falling. Harry immediately followed up with a stunner, and ropes erupted from the tip of Snape's wand. Just before both spells reached her, she slashed her hand through the air, her fingers tensed and splayed. Then, Snape's ropes enveloped her, binding her arms to her side, and before she could hit the floor, she took a direct hit from Harry's stunner. She was blasted back and fell hard.

Snape relentlessly continued the assault, for within moments, the powerful ropes binding the girl had burst into flame and she had sprung free; unfortunately, before she could make another move, another stunner from Snape had struck her in the back, and she hit the floor again. Even though he feared for her, Harry stunned her again for good measure, and she was blasted farther down the hall. When she tumbled to a stop, she did not move.

Sadly, there was no time for Harry to relish his success. Ginny screamed as what looked like bloody claw marks appeared on her shoulder. She fell to one knee, gripping them in pain and trying to staunch the blood. Harry, almost completely unlearned in the art of healing wounds or counteracting curses, did not know what to do aside from helping her back to her feet. The wounds did not look too serious, and time was of the essence. He knew they needed to get out as quickly as possible.

Snape, meanwhile, had rushed forward to where Sarah lay, and was binding her even tighter with more conjured ropes. When he was satisfied with his work, he knelt down and hefted her limp body into his arms.

"How are we going to get out of here?" Ginny asked timidly, her voice shaking.

Harry looked to Snape, silently asking the same question. There was no way they could possibly return to the Atrium. It would be swarming with Aurors and other Ministry personnel by now.

"The Minister's office," Snape announced, hurrying back in the direction of the lift. "Shacklebolt's fireplace will be connected to the Floo network, and the Minister has the proper clearance to come and go as he pleases."

With an arm around Ginny, Harry turned about and headed for the lift. When he reached it, he pushed the lift button several times, hoping that nothing would prevent a new lift from showing up. Mercifully, within seconds, a new lift clanged into view. Before it had even come to a stop, they all clambered into it, and Snape punched the appropriate button. The lift jerked powerfully and came to life again, and the thoroughly damaged hallway in which they had been disappeared from their sight.

"Whose fireplace will we exit from?" Harry asked, tapping his foot impatiently. Now that they had Sarah, he was once again gripped by the fear of what would happen if they were caught.

"Mine," Snape explained, "Dumbledore secretly connected my fireplace at Hogwarts to the network. My duties very frequently called for me to leave the castle at a moment's notice, and it was best for me to not be seen coming and going."

When the lift came to a stop and the golden grilles before them slid open, Snape sprang out of it, running as fast as he could while carrying the girl in his arms. Harry and Ginny trailed after him, neither of them knowing the way to the Minister's office. Soon they reached a very wide hallway with arched ceilings. At the end of it was an ornate wooden door with a golden plaque.

"Take her," Snape commanded when they reached the door. He dumped the girl's limp form into Harry's outstretched arms.

Harry's legs trembled slightly. He hadn't realized until now just how much the fight had exhausted him.

Snape set to work on the door, dispelling any protective enchantments he could find. When he was finished, he attempted to turn the handle, but it would not budge. Waving Harry and Ginny to stand back, he simply blasted the door open with tremendous force. They were in a hurry, after all.

The door open, Snape took the girl from Harry's arms and went inside.

Harry had no time to appreciate or admire the sight of the Minister's office. Instead, he rushed over to the fireplace. Sure enough, there was a small bag of Floo powder resting on the mantle. Sincerely hoping that Snape knew what he was doing, Harry was the first to take a handful of it, pitch it into the hearth, and step into the green flames. Seconds later, he was transported, along with his companions, to the safety of Hogwarts.

* * *

For Harry, the next few hours were a complete blur. Upon arriving back at the castle, they immediately rushed up to the hospital wing. Then, after leaving Sarah, as well as an irate Ginny in the expert care of Madam Pomfrey, he and Snape traveled together to Archer Crescent to support Ron and Hermione. By some miracle, they found the Muggle neighborhood to be completely quiet and absent of wizards or witches aside from themselves. Nevertheless, they continued to stake out the location for two hours past midnight. While there, Harry recounted the events that had taken place at the Ministry in whispers.

At two hours past midnight, Harry stifled a yawn. He, Ron, and Hermione were all sitting huddled closely together on the cement Muggle sidewalk, under the cloak. Snape had disillusioned himself and was leaning against a nearby tree, completely invisible except for when he made small movements. Even then, he would only appear as some slightly distorted air, like a heat mirage.

"Strange," Ron whispered, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "We should have seen some action by now, I expect."

"Maybe they were bluffing?" Hermione suggested, cupping her own hands and breathing into them. "Or maybe they sent a scout who sensed us here, and they didn't want to fight?"

"Yeah, maybe," Ron said. "What's the point of murdering helpless Muggles if you have to fight for it," he added gloomily.

Harry remained silent, deep in thought. He was almost certain that whomever sent Sarah that letter hadn't been bluffing, but he could think of no good reason why someone hadn't shown up on Archer Crescent by now in order to make good on their threat. He almost wished that someone _had_ shown up to try and assault the household. Then they could have at least sent them packing, and felt confident enough to leave.

Harry was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps on pavement; Snape had lifted the disillusionment on himself and was now waving his wand in complicated patterns over the home, casting protective charms, and other spells which Harry did not recognize. When he was finished, he approached the spot where he knew Harry and the others were sitting.

"I think we have done enough for one night," he said, glancing back in the direction of the house, "If I have done it correctly, I should be alerted in the event that someone attempts to penetrate my protective charms here."

Harry gave a relieved sigh and stood up, whipping the cloak off, and stretching gratefully.

"How so?" asked Hermione, who was being helped to her feet by Ron.

"My wand," Snape explained, raising his wand to their view before he stowed it away inside his robes, "If my spells here are tampered with, it will grow hot. Shall we?" he finished, turning on the spot, vanishing with a _crack_. He was obviously in a hurry.

Harry could see as much when he, Ron, and Hermione had Apparated after him, and followed as his long-legged strides carried him swiftly back up to the castle. Surprisingly, he was waiting for them in the entrance hall when they finally caught up to him.

"All three of you need to report to the hospital wing immediately," he told them, his tone authoritative.

"But-,"

"I am sure Miss Weasley will be eager to know that you are safe," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. He obviously was not going to take 'no' for an answer.

"We're fine, we don't need to go to-,"

"Really?" Snape snarked, raising his eyebrows, "Madam Pomfrey would insist you see her if she knew that _you_," his glare focused on Harry, "Were involved in the same life-or-death duel which injured Miss Weasley, and _you_ two," his eyes shifted to rest on Ron and Hermione, "Have been sitting out in the cold for the past several hours."

Harry did not protest again. He knew that, should Snape alert Madam Pomfrey to these facts, the witch would drag them bodily to the hospital wing before she allowed them to do anything else.

"Now _go_," Snape commanded, waving them off. When they had reluctantly trudged away, he swept off as quickly as he could, sprinting up staircases and dashing through corridors until, for the second time that night, he reached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmistress' tower. He shouted the password at it and climbed the spiral staircase with haste. When he reached the door above, he burst through it without bothering to knock.

He found the Headmistress' office still brightly illuminated. Professor McGonagall was still awake; she had apparently been awaiting his return. She had been able to occupy herself for a short while by repairing the tall window which the girl had broken, but now she was seated behind her desk, restlessly sipping a cup of tea which had grown cold long ago. When he had burst into the room, she leapt to her feet in surprise.

"Severus, what-," she began, but it immediately became clear that Snape was not listening. He had eyes only for the silver-bearded man seated in the portrait hanging above the desk.

"Tell me what is wrong with her, Dumbledore!" he demanded, "She went berserk again tonight. She attacked us. Potter and Miss Weasley would most likely be dead had I not been there."

Dumbledore sighed sadly and motioned to the chair before the large desk which had once belonged to him. Professor McGonagall had seated herself again, and was watching Snape expectantly.

"Please sit down, Severus," Dumbledore requested kindly, "And I will tell you everything I know, and everything that I suspect, about the girl."

Reluctantly, Snape took the chair. As soon as he was seated, Dumbledore looked unflinchingly into his harsh glare, and began to speak.

"Do you know why witches and wizards are able to perform magic, Severus?"

Snape did not deign to reply, even though he was unsure of the true answer.

"In time immemorial, the original users of magic were ancient magical beings and creatures. To make an incredibly long story a very short one, bloodlines mix, and human beings were granted the gift of magic."

Snape continued to stare up at the old man; he could not see where this was going.

"The magic possessed by humans is, for this reason, diluted," Dumbledore went on, "All witches and wizards are born with the ability to draw into their bodies the magical energy which exists all around us, but wandless magic, for most, is extremely limited, and difficult to perform. In order to focus, amplify, and bend their magic to their will properly, witches and wizards borrow bits and pieces from these original users of magic, in the form of wands. Wands are the instruments through which humans are able to channel and utilize their magic."

Dumbledore paused briefly.

"Once in every great while," he continued, "A witch or wizard is born whose innate connection to magical energy is unnaturally strong, and the phenomenon is recorded in a peculiar way," he said, motioning downward to the scroll, and its missing piece, which Professor McGonagall had neatly arranged across the desk, "The quills and scrolls, enchanted to serve as registries for the births of witches and wizards, such as the same used by Hogwarts. When one of these witches or wizards is born, the quill scribes their name in red ink."

Snape was now sitting up straight in his chair, and his glare had faded. His eyes were now resting on the scroll, on the neat red letters which spelled out the girl's name and address.

"Many years ago, shortly before the first downfall of Voldemort, the Ministry became aware of this phenomenon," Dumbledore said, "It was most interesting to them, for in recent history, aside from my own name a century previously, the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle had also been scribed in red ink upon the registry. Then, following Voldemort's downfall, they demanded access to the registry scrolls. When they found that another name had been scribed in red ink, scarcely a year prior, they panicked."

Snape's face was now ashen. He had risen from his chair, and he was shaking his head back and forth in denial.

"I tried to prevent it happening," Dumbledore went on. He had closed his eyes and hung his head slightly; he was obviously ashamed that he had not been successful in his attempt to do so. "But I was helpless to do so. Voldemort had seemingly been vanquished, and in his wake, certain forces within the Ministry were eager to eliminate the threat of, what seemed to them, may be a new Dark Lord."

"Unfortunately, everything played directly into their hands. Had the girl been born into a prominent magical family, they would have had no chance of removing her; but the girl was Muggleborn. They went to the address scribed on the registry, removed the infant, modified the memories of the Muggles there so that they would completely forget they ever had a daughter, and quietly and neatly swept the entire incident under the rug. All records of the girl's existence were erased, and she was shipped off to the middle of nowhere, far, far away from any magical community."

"How, then, did the girl end up right back where the Ministry didn't want her?" Snape asked, clearly outraged.

"This is where I must enter into guesswork," Dumbledore continued, "Based on everything I have heard, it is my belief that, for some time, the Ministry kept an eye on the girl. Their primary concern must have been to make sure she did not make any contact with the magical community, but they were also present to tidy up her incident of uncontrolled juvenile magic. By then, however, Voldemort's long absence had lulled them into a false sense of security, and becoming satisfied that the girl would never make contact with the magical world, they must have called off the job, and forgotten about her."

"As to how she came to be at Hogwarts, however, I haven't the foggiest, but I would hazard a guess that it is not entirely unrelated to the unfortunate incidents which have been plaguing her."

Snape nodded once, solemnly. He was not entirely sure that he wanted to hear the answer to the question he was about to ask.

"What is wrong with her, Dumbledore?"

"The Ministry has unwittingly done a great evil to her, far beyond that of removing her from her rightful place in the world, or robbing her of a childhood with her family," Dumbledore pressed on, "From a very young age, witches and wizards are taught to control their magic, but there was no such education for the girl. Her strong innate connection to magic has allowed her skills to progress a tremendous amount in a very short period of time, but there can be no rep

lacement for years of learning to control one's magic."

"What are you saying?" Snape asked, making a sincere effort to keep his voice from shaking.

"The consequences of her strong connection to magic, combined with her inability to fully control it, are disastrous. When she is in great duress, her body, just like a wand, _becomes_ the very conduit through which her magic flows, and instead of controlling her magic, her magic quite literally controls _her_. The process is no doubt sped up when her wand is discarded or lost, and I suspect that she may unconsciously discard her wand when she is in great danger, finding it limiting to her power. The enormous amount of energy she draws inside her lacks a proper channel through which to flow out, and so it consumes her. This is what you saw tonight, and as you have already seen, this process is damaging her body, as manifest in her eyes, and the mark on her wrist."

Dumbledore took a deep, steadying breath before he continued on.

"I fear that repeated instances of this transformation will result in permanent damage to her body, her mind, and eventually, her soul."

Snape suddenly felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. All of the air was lost from his lungs, and several drawn out moments of silence passed before he was able to muster speech.

"Most humans have very little appreciation for the subtleties of magic," Dumbledore went on, "They do not understand that magic is not easily tamed; when it can, it will run rampant, and many witches and wizards, in their arrogance and disregard for its power, have destroyed themselves. When magic flows untamed into the girl, it acts of its own accord, and desires only destruction. In a very interesting way, it is alive."

"So-," he began, and he barely recognized his own voice. It was rare that he had heard himself speak out of such deep concern. It sounded hollow, and pained. "She is—- she is dying."

"I never said that the girl was dying, Severus," Dumbledore cautioned him, "Merely that she is in danger. If she continues allowing her magic to consume her, something terrible is sure to come of it."

"What can be done for her?" Snape asked, and his voice was full of conviction.

"As to an immediate action to take, I am unsure," Dumbledore replied, "The girl's case is almost unprecedented. For the time being, I can only suggest that she be kept well out of harm's way, and that she never be without her wand. She must learn to control her magic."

"And if she doesn't?"

Dumbledore sighed.

"I am not sure, Severus," Dumbledore said. Inside his portrait, he lowered his head slightly and gripped the bridge of his long, crooked nose between his fingers. "Her mind may break from the strain, leaving her as nothing more than a thoughtless vessel of wild magic, and she will not stop rampaging until she is killed, or her soul may be overwhelmed and become unstable, and I do not pretend to know the havoc that would wreak upon a living person."

Snape dropped his eyes to the floor. He was feeling a deeply uncomfortable mixture of frustration, anger, guilt, and fear. _He_ had been the one primarily responsible for teaching the girl magic thus far, yet she had not learned to control her magic properly. Now her life was at risk, not to mention her soul.

"Do not blame yourself, Severus," Dumbledore said softly, as perceptive as ever, "There is no amount of educational prowess that could undo such a great amount of damage in such a short period of time. If anything, I would be willing to wager that you have done much to set her on the right course."

Snape did not speak; he merely gave a stiff nod. Then, for the first time since he entered the office, he looked to Professor McGonagall. She was quite pale, and as she stared back at him from across the huge desk, she looked incredibly small and frail.

"It is very late, Minerva," Snape said, his eyes on the floor again, "I suggest you retire." Then, without speaking another word, he spun on his heel and strode out of the office, leaving nothing but stony silence behind him.

He then began slowly drifting through the long, darkened corridors of the castle, trying to digest everything he had heard. As he walked along, he attempted to delay his journey to the hospital wing as much as he could; it would take quite a while to find the right words with which to tell the girl that her own magic was destroying her.


	29. The Soul

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red.

Chapter 29: The Soul.

A voice was laughing hysterically.

"Excellent, excellent!" he shouted, pacing back and forth in a frenzied sort of way as he digested the news that had just been delivered to him. He turned in his pacing, addressing the other occupant of the room. "You know what to do now," he said, unable to mask his burgeoning excitement, "We'll run the headlines tomorrow morning. Everything is finally coming together."

"Now what, though? She got away again," a course, gravelly voice growled. "She's probably already back at Hogwarts. We can't touch her there."

"We won't need to," the pacing man said, and his voice instantly took on a lower, more sinister tone. "She will come."

* * *

It was a good half an hour later when Snape finally arrived at the hospital wing. Just as he expected, he found Potter, both Weasley children, and the Granger girl awaiting him there. They were all gathered around the ends of two beds. The Weasley girl was lying in one, looking thoroughly impatient, and the girl was lying unconscious in the other, apparently having been restrained at some point; thick leather straps were keeping her pressed tightly to the bed.

When Snape had opened the doors to the hospital wing, all eyes were upon him, including those of Madam Pomfrey. The witch immediately stormed her way over to him, and fixed him with an intense, angry stare.

"Just what have you been doing to these poor children, Severus?" Madam Pomfrey demanded. "They refuse to tell me anything, yet Miss Weasley was severely wounded by an unknown curse, and I have never before seen injuries that compare to Miss Garrend's!"

"We're not children!" Ginny spat, clearly irritated. Harry immediately turned to quiet her. The last thing they needed was to offend Madam Pomfrey any more than they had already done by refusing to tell her what had happened to them.

Snape did not meet Madam Pomfrey's angry stare. Instead, when she had mentioned the girl's injuries, his eyes immediately turned to the girl's bed. _She couldn't be injured_, he asserted to himself. _She was only subjected to a few stunning spells, at worst._

When Madam Pomfrey gave an angry hiss, Snape immediately turned his attention back to her, his expression severe.

"I am sorry, Poppy," Snape began, "But the events that have transpired here, to all of us, are of an extremely sensitive nature. It is within all of our best interests for you to retire to your quarters and allow us to discuss these events outside of your hearing."

Madam Pomfrey looked mutinous. A storm was clearly raging inside her as she stared up at the tall, black-eyed man. He stared back unflinchingly.

After a moment, Madam Pomfrey gave a derisive snort.

"You will summon me the moment you are finished," she said. She then spun on her heel, and stomped toward the door leading to her office and her private quarters. It was promptly slammed shut.

Within mere fractions of a second, two wands were drawn and pointed toward the door.

"_Muffliato,_" Snape and Harry uttered simultaneously, securing the hospital wing for private conversation.

With a smirk toward the boy, Snape tucked his wand into the inner pocket of his robes and approached the beds around which they were huddled. His eyes fell upon the girl, his expression grave.

"What did she do?" he asked aloud, not addressing anyone in particular.

Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron all glanced at each other before Harry finally spoke up.

"She started lashing out," Harry said, looking to the thick leather straps which were restraining Sarah's form. "I don't think she was even conscious. She just started moving and trying to hurt anyone who was near her. We had to strap her down to keep her from hitting us."

Snape gave a slow nod, and then turned to the bed in which the Weasley girl lay.

"Your wounds," he said, "Are they well?"

Ginny sat up straighter in her bed and gave a slight shrug. She was obviously quite ready to be rid of her internment in the hospital wing.

"They're fine," she said dismissively, "Madam Pomfrey didn't know the curse that made them, but she was able to stop them bleeding and patch them up a bit."

When Ginny had moved, both Harry and Ron leaned closer to her in a clear attempt to coax her back into a more relaxed position.

"Madam Pomfrey said you shouldn't move too much," Ron cautioned her, ignoring Ginny's clear attempt to appear better than she actually was. "She said you could tear them open again if you're not careful."

Ginny rolled her eyes. Snape remained expressionless and turned back to the girl. She looked so still and peaceful.

"What injuries was Poppy talking about?" Snape asked. The girl looked just fine to his eyes.

Once again, they all glanced at each other nervously. Harry took a deep breath and slid his chair closer to Sarah's bed. He extended a hand toward her. Holding her right wrist gently, he lifted her arm up from the bed.

Snape straightened up, and he could not stop the small intake of breath that escaped him upon seeing it; two deep streaks of crimson red were clearly etched up the girl's forearm, the same hue as the mysterious mark which adorned her wrist. His eyes immediately darted to her left arm. The same streaks of red were clearly visible there, too, almost as if someone had cleanly and precisely cut her with a razor sharp knife.

Just as Dumbledore had said, her body had sustained even further damage. The corruption of magic within her was clearly spreading.

Harry was watching Snape closely. His reaction to seeing the newly appeared marks on Sarah's arms made it clear that he knew more than he was letting on. Harry fixed his features with the most intense grimace that he could muster, and rose out of his chair, facing Snape.

"What's going on here?" Harry demanded. At his example, Ron stood from his chair as well. While their backs were turned, Ginny straightened herself up against her pillows. "What did Dumbledore tell you?"

Snape took a deep breath, his eyes locked in Harry's steely green gaze. Despite the danger that he had accompanied, and arguably _put_, the girl into, he had no doubt saved the girl's life, and he felt a strange sense of indebtedness to the boy for at least that much. Snape also could not discount the boy's sincere concern for the girl. He knew he had no choice but to tell him what the old man had said about the girl's strange, unique condition.

Breaking his gaze with Harry, Snape glanced to the others; the Weasley boy was still standing there, wearing a determined-looking grimace. Granger was looking rather wan while sitting in her chair, and the Weasley girl was wearing an expression identical to her brother's. With a resigned, inward sigh, Snape knew that he had no choice but to tell them as well.

For about the next half an hour, Snape proceeded to recount the entire conversation that had taken place between he and Dumbledore, from the Ministry's past involvement in Sarah's life, all the way up to her current condition which seemed to be inflicting so much damage upon her. Over the course of his tale, the boy's fierce expression had quickly faded, and he had grown quite pale and fallen back into his chair. The Weasley boy had followed suit, sitting hunched over in his chair with his hands on either side of his head; his sister was now slumped against her pillow, looking quite ill, and the Granger girl was staring determinedly in his direction with an abundance of tears welling up in her eyes.

"But-," the boy began to stammer, looking to Sarah's beside table where her wand lay, "What about-,"

"There's something you don't understand about magic," Snape snorted softly as he cut the boy off. "It takes more than just a wave of your wand to mend a pair of broken eyeglasses. Magic doesn't just happen out of thin air. When she loses control, tremendous amounts of magical energy are redirected through her body instead of her wand."

"You have seen this before," Snape continued, "Didn't you ever wonder what made the Dark Lord look the way he did? As his soul became more and more diminished through the creation of his Horcruxes, his powerful magic began to twist and warp his body, just as is happening to her, now. It began slowly at first, but became more and more pronounced over time."

The silence that followed resonated in all of them. Snape's eyes turned once again to the girl's lifeless form, and to her arms which bore the latest manifestation of her strange affliction. Perhaps it was just because they were new, but the red markings which striped her arms appeared even brighter to him than the first time he had seen the mark on her wrist.

The Weasley girl, steadying herself with a deep breath and regaining some of her color in the process, was the first to speak up.

"What are we to do?" She asked, trying to look Snape in the eye. "What can we do to help her?"

Snape reluctantly tore his eyes away from Sarah to look at Ginny.

"It is unclear whether or not the damages already inflicted upon her can ever be undone," he said slowly, the calmness of his tone masking the great deal of inner turmoil which was churning within him, "Other than that, for now, we need to make sure that she is never without her wand, and that she is kept _well out of harm's way_." When he finished speaking, his deep, black eyes had come to rest firmly on the boy. If anyone were going to push her into further danger, it would be him.

When Harry felt Snape's eyes upon him, he instinctively straightened up and met his gaze. Instead of looking defiant, however, his expression was pained, and he gave a solemn nod.

"That's it," Harry said, and his voice sounded hollow, "We're done. We're not going after it anymore. It's caused too much pain," he said, and his eyes turned to his girlfriend, still recovering from the injury which had been inflicted upon her by Sarah. Her expression was inscrutable. He then looked to the faces around him for reassurance. Ron's face was still hidden between his hands as he stared at the floor, but Hermione looked as if she were on the verge of speech. "We're done," Harry reiterated, cutting off any possible retort that Hermione might have.

He knew what she was thinking. A great amount of evil had been done to the girl lying in the bed next to them. While Harry agreed that this was true, he could no longer consent to finding justice for her when it meant putting more than her very life at risk.

"We're done," he whispered again with a sigh, looking to Sarah. She hadn't made a peep or so much as moved a finger after lashing out at all of them. He could only hope that she would recover quickly. He hoped even more deeply that when she finally awoke, behind those red eyes, she would still be the same girl that all of them remembered.

Harry nearly failed to hide the slight gasp that next escaped him. His bright green eyes opened wide as vivid memories replayed themselves inside his mind. He was brought back to the refuge that they had sought in Snape's home, immediately following the Gringotts fiasco…

_Sarah had snapped at him, unexpectedly… He looked into her eyes once again… It was as if the danger and wildness that she had displayed only moments before was now lurking quietly beneath the surface, gazing out at him…_

Suddenly, Snape's words held a far greater meaning for him. Harry had seen the effects of Sarah's losses of control firsthand, and as far as he was concerned, he had seen an ominous inkling of what was to come if they continued. Her mind may very well be balanced on a razor's edge.

"Harry?" Ginny's clear voice pierced through the haze, drawing him back to reality. "What is it?"

Harry looked at her earnestly, but could not bring himself to tell all of them just how deeply he was already concerned about Sarah's condition. He remained silent.

"What are we going to tell her?" Ron spoke up finally, trying to straighten up in his chair. He was so pale that his flaming red hair looked as if it were burning against his face.

At the same time, Ginny swung her legs over the edge of her bed and sat up straight. She glanced in the direction of Madam Pomfrey's private quarters with a look of disdain. Then, with a small wince, she stood, clearly ready to be freed of the hospital wing. All the while, Snape had been eyeing her closely.

"_We_ shall tell her nothing," Snape spoke, narrowing his eyes slightly, "I shall remain by her side until she awakens and then speak with her. All of you, on the other hand, shall return to your quarters immediately."

Snape's features held such a look of severity that none of them bothered to argue after he had voiced his desire for all of them to leave. They could not deny that what he had to tell the girl was indeed of a delicate nature, and that it was probably best for him, and him alone, to explain it to her.

After a few moments of gazing hopefully at Sarah's limp form in the desperate hope that she might awaken at that very moment, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all rose from their seats. Wrapping a gentle arm around his girlfriend's shoulders, Harry began leading Ginny toward the doors. Ron extended a hand toward Hermione who clasped it tightly. To Snape's surprise, none of them uttered a word as they slunk through the doors and out of sight.

When they were gone, Snape's eyes turned again to the girl lying in the bed, restrained tightly by thick leather straps. With a flick of his wand, the bonds were cut. She hadn't so much as twitched since he had entered the hospital wing; he didn't see the harm in it.

Then, with a heavy sigh, he dragged the chair in which the boy had been seated closer to the girl's bedside. Tucking his wand back inside his robes, he sat down, watching the girl as she slept. He had no idea how long it would before she finally awoke, but he knew that no matter how long it took, he would be by her side when she finally did.

* * *

It was a few hours later when Sarah finally drifted back into consciousness. The very second she was once again aware of herself, she let out a long, low groan; her entire body was racked with pain, particularly her head and her arms. Purely on reflex, she slapped a hand to her forehead as she winced.

She had no idea where she was. From what little she could feel, and what little she could see through her eyelids, she was at least lying on something soft, and it was dark. The last thing she could remember was being in the Headmistress' office, and being overcome with anger. She could remember nothing else.

As soon as the girl had moved, Snape straightened up in his chair, and his eyes shot open widely. Over the past couple of hours while the girl had remained unconscious, he had slumped down and come dangerously close to sleep, kept awake only by his steadfast determination to make sure the girl was alright. The night had been exhausting; a fierce battle capped off by an emotionally draining conversation with Dumbledore. It was a testament to his dedication to the girl that he was still awake.

In the silence following the girl's groan, he was filled with a sense of dread and trepidation, and he hesitated to speak.

He was possessed with the same fear that Harry had experienced earlier. He had heard firsthand the type of damage that repeated losses of control could inflict upon the girl. Would she be the same, even now? Or would she bear some unmistakable, irreversible affect upon her normal personality? So far, she did not appear to be lashing out at all. That, at least, was promising.

He cleared his throat softly, and then spoke.

"Sarah?" he said gently, trying to hide the slight trembling in his voice, "Can you hear me?"

The girl groaned again, and her head fell limply to the side in his direction. It was with great effort that she managed to wrench her eyelids apart. It felt as if her head were going to split open.

"Severus?" she breathed, "Where am I?" she asked meekly. Once again, her vision was profoundly blurred. She could only see a tall, dark shadow seated in the chair next to her.

"You are safe," Snape replied, "In the hospital wing at Hogwarts." He said no more, curious to hear the girl speak again. He was eager to see if he would hear the words which he most dreaded; if she was confused as to how she had come to be here, and if she had remembered nothing of the events that had transpired within the Ministry.

"What?" Sarah breathed again, her face twisting into an expression of deepest confusion. Snape's heart sank into the pit of his stomach. "What are you talking about?"

Snape swallowed hard, and remained silent as he tried to choose his words carefully. Before he could speak again, however, the girl continued talking.

"I was in Professor McGonagall's office," the girl asserted, "And then, well," she paused awkwardly, "You were there, you saw," she said, indicating the revelation that her name had been present upon one of Hogwart's registry scrolls since her birth. "The Ministry...," she mumbled, "I… I got so angry, I felt…,"

Sarah paused, trying to collect her thoughts as best she could; unfortunately, her recollections from that point on were nonexistent.

"Did I pass out?" she asked, her tone making clear that she hoped that this had been the case, "Did I fall and hit my head on her desk? What happened?"

Snape took a deep breath.

"No," he spoke simply. He was not relishing the experience of having to describe what had happened and what she had done.

Sarah's hands clenched shut, clutching pure, white sheets together in her fingers. She barely restrained herself from letting out a pained whimper. She was not ready to hear the answer to the question she was about to ask, but she had to know.

"What did I do?" the girl asked. To Snape, it already sounded as if the girl knew she had done something terrible.

He had to tell her. He had to tell her everything. _Everything_.

"You lost control," he said, straightening up again, and closing his eyes. In his mind, he could see the girl once again crashing through the tall, mullioned window, possessed by rage.

He swallowed hard again, pressing onward.

"You ran out," he said, "Right out of Hogwarts, straight off of the grounds. We chased after you, the Weasley girl, Potter, and I. You went to the Ministry. You had forced entry, neutralized the watchmen, and proceeded to—to tear up the place."

Sarah was now biting her lower lip so hard that she had almost drawn blood. She was trying her very hardest to remember any of what Snape was telling her, but it was all a complete blank. Tears were beginning to well up in the corners of her eyes.

"When we found you," Snape continued, his voice slightly choppy, as if he were hesitating on each word spoken, "You—you attacked us. We barely managed to subdue you, but not before you injured the-," he hesitated again. It was so difficult for him to break out of his old habits, "You hurt Ginny."

"No," Sarah gave a yowl. She sounded like a wounded animal. "Is—is she…,"

"She appears to be fine," Snape said, inclining his head softly. "After you were subdued, we brought you back here."

Sarah shook her head back and forth slowly several times. She could remember nothing about anything that Snape had described. She had blasted her way inside the Ministry, attacked Ministry security personnel, caused significant collateral damage to the facility, and worst of all, injured her friend. She turned her head again, and now she was staring straight up at the high ceiling, or what little she could see of it through her blurred vision. Tears were now streaming liberally down her cheeks.

"What's wrong with me?" she whimpered. Though she had never been a religious individual, it was a question more directed toward the Gods, whatever they may be, than any she had ever asked in her life before.

Unfortunately, the tall, dark man sitting next to her knew exactly what was wrong. After placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, he proceeded to recount the entire discussion that had taken place between he and Dumbledore. Throughout, the girl lay quite still, and what little color she had drained from her face. She looked as if she were about to be sick. Her glassy stare remained glued to the ceiling above her.

When Snape had finished speaking, her throat twitched as she swallowed. Her expression did not change, and she did not look at him again.

"I see," she said quietly, and when the sound of her voice reached her ears, it did not sound as if it were her own. She raised one of her forearms into her blurred field of vision, and could just barely see the bright, red stripes which now adorned it.

Snape leaned closer to her. He was already feeling an enormous swell of guilt for having to be the one to tell her what exactly was wrong. Her reaction to the news was less than encouraging.

"We can prevent anything else from happening," Snape spoke, his voice full of conviction, "If you are never without your wand, and if you stay out of danger, you will be fine. I can help you. I can teach you to control it. I promise," he finished, and his last two words were among those that he spoke with such rarity, he thought that the girl must surely be heartened or moved by them.

Instead, she simply lay there, still as ever, staring up at the ceiling.

Not only moments, but several _minutes_, of silence passed next.

"You should go," the girl finally spoke.

Snape straightened up again, slightly affronted by her words.

"You must be exhausted," she said. "You should get some sleep." She did not even look at him.

Snape's hands tightened into fists. His usual instinct was urging him to lash out in return, but he stayed himself. He knew that the information the girl had just received was not exactly easy to hear. He should have been expecting her to have a less-than-positive reaction to it. He nodded once, slowly, and placed a hand on her arm. He was glad, at least, that she did not shirk away from it.

"Very well," Snape said softly, rising from his chair. "I will check in tomorrow," he said. As he turned to leave, he resisted the urge to reach out and touch her again. As he exited the hospital wing, he flicked his wand toward the wall sconces, and they extinguished themselves.

When Snape had gone, the hospital wing was dark and silent. Sarah continued to stare up at the blurry shadow of a ceiling she could barely see. It felt as if there were a huge hand within her chest, crushing the life out of her. She raced through what Snape had told her again and again in her mind. _My magic is killing me, and it's the Ministry's fault_. She kept repeating it inside her like a mantra. Perhaps if she forced herself to think about it enough, it would dull the harsh sting of the truth.

After a while, she began to replay all of the events of the past few months over in her head, as well. She had certainly lived more in the past few months she had spent in this wonderful world than in her entire life thus far. The hand inside her chest squeezed shut painfully as a new thought made its way to the forefront of her mind; _Maybe it would have been best if I'd never ended up here at all_…

This thought settled in on her like a dirty, stagnant pool of water. Her eyes began to widen, however, as she pondered it. How _had_ she come to be here in the first place? She shut her eyes tightly as she tried to recall. She remembered the stormy forest, and the Centaurs that had tried to kill her. Everything before, that, however, was a fuzzy blank. Hadn't she been camping with friends? That was what she had told Professor McGonagall when she first arrived at the castle...

_Friends?_ she thought to herself.

She could not remember their names, or their faces. She could not even remember how she had come to be in this part of the world, or why.

She spent the next several minutes trying her best to jar her memory, but nothing came through. The hand inside her chest closed again; _Maybe I can't remember because of what my magic is doing to me,_ she thought grimly. _Maybe it's too late. Maybe it's already affecting my mind._ She fought hard to blink back tears as she wondered what she might not be able to remember next. Would she forget her wonderful new friends, and the loyalty and devotion they had shown to her? Or would she forget Snape's love?

Would she lose control again, and become a danger to everyone and herself?

_No_, she thought to herself, _No I won't_. Painfully, she sat up in her bed. Tears were now streaming liberally down her cheeks. She had made up her mind. She knew what she had to do. She would not risk hurting anyone else. She already hurt Ginny, and she had gotten lucky; what if whatever spell she had used _killed_ Ginny instead? Sarah shuddered and her blood ran cold at the thought. _No, I'm not going to hurt anyone else. I have to do this_.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. With her blurred vision, she reached for the end table next to her. Opening one of its drawers, she began groping around inside, searching for the simple tools that she required.

* * *

Hermione's copy of _The Daily Prophet_ had arrived unusually early that morning. It wasn't even breakfast time yet. In fact, the post owl had practically beaten down her dormitory window in order to gain entry, bearing the day's news. Mostly everyone was still asleep. When Hermione's eyes fell on the headlines, however, she let out a loud shriek. She had nearly roused the entire House. Still dressed in her pajamas, she streaked out into the common room. Ginny, who had nearly fallen out of bed, chased after her.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Ron demanded. He and Harry, also still in their bedclothes, came clambering into the common room.

"That's what I'd like to know," Ginny said, "She just woke up half the castle."

"Look!" Hermione yelled, thrusting her copy of _The Daily Prophet_ under Harry's eyes.

Harry straightened his glasses. As he read the headline, his jaw was agape.

_**MINISTRY ASSAULTED BY DANGEROUS, UNKNOWN MUGGLE-BORN WITCH. SECURITY PERSONELLE INJURED, DAMAGE DEVASTATING. MAGICAL COMMUNITY PANICS, CALLS FOR CHANGE.**_

"_What?_" Harry spat, "How the hell could they have known _that_?" Harry's grip on the newspaper loosened. Ron snatched it from him. He swore softly, and then passed it to Ginny. He was speaking more to the fact that somebody somehow knew that Sarah was an unknown, Muggleborn witch. The fact that the Ministry had been assaulted, he knew, was pretty plain.

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione asked, glancing around at all of them. As usual, something which Hermione perceived as being _obvious_ was usually less than so to the rest of them. "Someone knows _exactly_ what is going on here! Someone knows _everything_! How do you think they knew where Sarah's family lived, and expected her to show up there? Someone knows! You've been playing right into their hands the entire time! They _wanted_ this to happen!" Hermione rattled off. When she finished, she was gasping for breath.

Harry glanced around; more and more bleary-eyed, sleepy-looking students were filing into the common room to see what all of the commotion was about.

"Let's go and see her," Harry said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "We'll be able to talk in private in the hospital wing."

Nodding in agreement, everyone returned to their respective dormitories to get dressed. In less than three minute's time, they all met in the common room again. Stepping through the portrait hole, they made their way through the corridors to the hospital wing.

When they arrived, the hospital wing was empty, aside from Sarah's bed. It appeared that sometime during the night she had wheeled over one of the portable curtains and drawn it shut. Her entire bed was surrounded by it, blocking her from sight. All of the other beds were empty, and Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen. The four of them rushed over to the curtained bed. Hermione was still holding fast to her copy of _The Daily Prophet_, raising it up to her eyes as she riffled through it with incredible speed. It was a wonder she hadn't bumped into anything on her way to the hospital wing.

"Sarah, are you awake?" Harry asked loudly as they approached the curtained bed. He reached out for the white linen drapes and seized them in his hands. "We need to show you someth-," he fell silent when he tore the curtains back. Sarah's bed was neatly made, and empty. On the pillow, there was a folded piece of parchment.

For a moment, Harry looked searchingly all around the hospital wing in the hopes that Sarah was hiding in a corner, or someplace he had simply just not looked yet, but she was gone. He glanced back at his friends. All of them were suitably alarmed.

Harry's hand shot out for the note on the pillow, but not before he shouted, "Madam Pomfrey? Where has Sarah gone?"

Almost instantly, the witch's head had appeared in her office doorway. Her face was ashen.

"What do you mean, Potter? She's right-," the witch's eyes fell on the empty bed, and then scanned the rest of the empty hospital wing. She gasped audibly. It was a rare occurrence when one of her patients escaped her care from right under her nose. "Where is she?" the witch yelled.

Realizing that Madam Pomfrey would be of no assistance, Harry unfolded the note in his hands. His bright green eyes darted back and forth rapidly as he read the note in Sarah's handwriting.

_To whom it may concern,_

_I have left Hogwarts. After hearing what was wrong with me last night, I believe that this decision is for the best. If I stay, I will be endangering all of you. It is best that I leave, and never perform magic again as long as I live. For this reason, I have left my wand behind-_

Harry glanced up from the note; Sarah's wand was lying on the surface of the end table next to the bed, quite alone. He read on.

_And I will not be coming back to retrieve it._

_I am sorry for this. I love all of you. You have shown me more loyalty, friendship, and kindness that I have ever known in my entire life. I will miss all of you._

_Ginny, I am sorry for hurting you. This way, I will never be able to hurt any of you, ever again._

_Please tell Severus that I will always love him._

_Love,  
Sarah_

"No!" Harry shouted. He continued to look all around the hospital wing in the vain hope that this was somehow all one big joke, and that Sarah would come out of her hiding place at any moment. Even so, he knew, deep down, that she had really gone.

Hermione immediately seized the parchment from Harry's hand and read it. She shrieked, and soon it had been passed between all of them.

"No, no, no!" Hermione cried, shaking her head back and forth in disbelief, her frizzy mane of brown hair swaying. "This is exactly what they want her to do! They're probably waiting for her outside _right now!_

"What are we going to do?" Ginny asked loudly. All of them were looking quite helpless.

"Calm down, let's think!" Harry urged them, but Hermione was already ten steps ahead.

"She doesn't have her wand," Hermione said quickly, "She can't have Disapparated. She had to have left the castle on foot. We are surrounded by miles and miles of densely forested wilderness. She can't have gotten far."

"How the bloody hell are we going to find her in the Forbidden Forest? It's huge!" Ron declaimed, spreading his arms wide above his head to illustrate the gravity of the situation.

"There's still snow on the ground," Hermione said, her brain racing, "We might be able to tell from which direction she entered the forest."

"If she hasn't covered her tracks, that is," Harry said grimly.

"There's only one way to find out," Ginny spoke up.

"Come on," Harry agreed. They all began rushing toward the large double doors leading out of the hospital wing when a tall, dark figure appeared between them.

Snape's eyes widened. He could immediately tell that something was wrong. Potter, the Weasley children, and the Granger girl were all rushing toward him.

"What is it? What's happened?" he demanded, glaring at all of them in a rather accusatory sort of way.

"She's gone!" Hermione shrieked.

"Gone?"

When they reached Snape, Harry thrust Sarah's note into his hands. When he had finished reading it, he crumpled it in his fist and let it fall to the floor. Harry was expecting him to immediately dash for the castle's exit. Instead, however, Snape pushed past all of them forcefully and made his way into the hospital wing. He reached the end table next to Sarah's vacated bed and scooped up her wand, stowing it inside his robes.

On his way back to the doors, Snape spied the newspaper in the Granger girl's hands.

"I assume all of you are quite aware of today's headlines," said Snape, his voice deep and intense. "We must find her."

Without another word, all of them dashed out of the castle together. Outside, the early morning was crisp and bitterly cold. There were thick gray clouds overhead that the sun could not hope to penetrate. Mercifully, there was still a layer of snow upon the ground.

"She hasn't covered her tracks!" Harry shouted excitedly, thrusting his arm forward and pointing in the direction where a fresh path of footprints trailed off into the distance toward the Forbidden Forest. They were unmistakably made by Sarah's hiking boots. "Come on!"

Running as quickly as they could, all of them followed the trail.

"I wouldn't expect that she had," Snape said as he ran, breathing heavily. Puffs of foggy condensation were issuing from his mouth and nostrils, "She has no wand. It would have taken a tremendous physical effort to cover all of these tracks, and she is probably still in pain."

They followed Sarah's trail as long as they could. Just as Hermione predicted, they could tell from which direction she had entered the Forbidden Forest, but once they reached the shelter of the forest's thick canopy, the snow disappeared from the ground, and Sarah's footprints with it. Even at the edge of the forest, its comparative darkness to the wide, open lawns of the school was remarkable. All of them drew their wands and ignited them. They scanned the ground hopefully for some sign of Sarah's passing. There were a few markings upon the ground which might be discernable as Sarah's boot prints, but it was difficult to tell.

"Now what?" Ron asked, shining his wandlight into the shadowy trees before him. He still did not much like visiting the forest.

There was a pause. Everyone looked to Snape for an answer. He closed his eyes for a moment.

"She will have wanted to get as far away from the castle as possible, as quickly as possible," he said thoughtfully. "I believe our best bet will to walk straight onward from here and hope that we run into her. Agreed?"

When everyone had nodded their consent, they pressed on into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest, hoping that their friend had not yet fallen victim to its many perils, or to whoever might be waiting for her in the shadows; or worse, to her own magic.

* * *

Sarah had been walking for what seemed like hours. It was freezing cold inside the forest, and the farther she passed into its depths, the darker her surroundings became. If she did not know better, she might have assumed that it was extremely late at night. The ground beneath her feet was hard, frozen, and treacherous; more than once, she had tripped over a protruding tree root. The matter was not helped at all by the fact that her vision still had not completely returned to normal. The blackness of the forest, combined with her blurry vision, had considerably slowed down her pace. The going was extremely slow.

Suddenly, and painfully, she found herself wishing that she had her wand.

_No,_ she thought to herself, pushing back the thought, _I'm better off without it. If I'd kept it, I'd only be tempted to use it. I would probably only blow myself up, along with half the forest, anyway._

Just as she thought this, her right foot was caught on another root sticking up out of the forest floor; she fell hard. She caught herself with her arms, but it jarred her body. Her arms still ached where her new marks had appeared. Her head was still throbbing dully.

Groaning, she righted herself and continued on her way. She tried shuffling her feet along the ground as she went in an attempt to avoid tripping again. When she came to an unusually large tree which blocked her path, she paused, and came to rest against it. She sighed heavily as she leaned against its cold, rough bark. Her head was swimming with unpleasant thoughts.

Hot tears began to well up in her eyes as she realized that she probably would not be able to find her way back to the castle even if she wanted to, and she doubted even more that her friends, if they were to come searching for her, would ever be able to find her. She bit back a sob and continued onward before she could come to regret her decision any more.

A short time later, she could see what appeared to be a large clearing ahead of her. At least that's what she might have called it; the trees thinned considerably to make a large opening, but it was only slightly more illuminated than the heart of the forest from which she was emerging. It seemed that even in a clearing, light could just simply not penetrate the forest.

She thought dimly that there was probably some magic at work in the place which caused this phenomenon when a new, strange feeling washed over her.

She suddenly felt as if she could barely move. As cold as she had felt before, there was now an icy presence seeping its way down into her very core, stealing all of the warmth from her blood. Her breathing suddenly seemed difficult and labored; upon exhaling, there was an enormous cloud of steam. She began to shiver violently. She continued onward toward the clearing as best she could, hoping that she might feel slightly warmer there. Her mind seemed to be darkening. All of her worst thoughts were floating to the surface once more, threatening to consume her. She felt hopeless. She felt as if she would never be happy again.

When she reached the edge of the clearing, she sat herself down against the trunk of a tree. She hugged her knees to her chest. Her entire body was shaking. She felt as if she were shutting down. She had no hope left inside of her. She had the overwhelming desire to sit here, in this very spot, in the middle of the icy forest, and never be found. That would be best, wouldn't it?

She was distracted from her morose thoughts when she heard a soft rustling coming from across the clearing. With effort, she raised her head. Her breath stopped cold in her lungs. There, across the clearing, were two large, cloaked figures. They were moving slowly toward her, and their breathing came in great, hollow rasps. They appeared to have no legs, and only drifted forward, the ends of their tattered cloaks dragging along the forest floor and rustling the dead leaves and twigs there.

Sarah felt the urge to stand and defend herself, but she had no wand. She immediately recognized these creatures from all that she had heard about them.

Dementors.

The icy dread that had settled in upon her was so absolute that she could not even bring herself to her feet in the first place. She sat there, knees hugged tightly to her chest, her bright red eyes locked on the creatures drifting toward her. So this was it, she thought. The end. Her soul was now forfeit. _Oh well,_ a faint voice spoke inside her head, _At least I won't be a danger to anyone anymore…_.

She closed her eyes as the creatures drifted closer, determined not to look as they would surely pull back their hoods, reveal their grotesque, eyeless faces, and suck out her soul. Almost as soon as she did, however, the aura of cold and dread seemed to dissipate significantly, though it did not disappear. She forced her eyes open to see how the Dementors had stopped themselves in the center of the clearing, and drifted high overhead.

Now Sarah was confused. Should she try to run? No, if these creatures had any intent of harming her they would surely catch her. Maybe they were toying with her? Perhaps Dementors enjoyed more thrilling chase instead of a willing victim who sits quietly and accepts their terrible fate.

Just as she thought this, the opposite end of the clearing was full of movement. More hooded and cloaked figures were emerging from amongst the trees. These ones definitely had legs; they were not Dementors, nor any other terrifying magical creature that Sarah could recognize. There were six of them, just as there had been on the night when she and Harry had first gone to Archer Crescent. A horrible sinking feeling overwhelmed her.

She forced herself up on shaky legs. If she was to die, she would die on her feet.

"Finally," one of the hooded figures spoke out across the clearing as they drew closer to her, "This is much better, isn't it? Just us alone. No one else. You have a nasty habit of having interlopers tagging along with you, don't you?"

Sarah clenched her teeth and did not speak.

"Figured it out then, have you?" the figure spoke again. Sarah's head tilted slightly to the side. "That's right, we know everything. We know how dangerous you are. _Too_ dangerous, aren't you?"

Sarah suddenly bared her teeth and steadied herself on her feet in a fighting stance.

"Yeah," she yelled back, belying the way in which her heart was pounding frantically, and her knees were shaking, "Then you'll know to stay back, won't you? I've already beaten all of you once, haven't I? Surprised I didn't kill any of you!"

One of the other hooded figures brought something up to Sarah's view; they appeared to be large, glowing, silvery shackles engraved with runes, and linked together by immensely thick chains.

"Not this time," a strangely accented voice spoke. Sarah immediately recognized it as belonging to the vampire, Vincent.

"What are you going to do, lock me up? Hah," Sarah snorted, but she knew that she must not be fooling anyone with her false display of bravado.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," the first voice spoke again. "We borrowed this little beauty from the Unspeakables. Pretty, isn't it?"

Before Sarah could react, the strange shackle-device was thrown at her with blinding speed. The shackles did not touch her skin, but linked themselves together around her neck, wrists, and ankles. When they were sealed, she could not move.

"That's better," the figure spoke. "Now you can only move if _we_ want you to move."

The figure raised its arm, pointing a wand straight at her. After only a flick of it, Sarah, against her will, was compelled to move her feet and walk forward. She fought it with all of her might, but to no avail. As she struggled, the glowing bonds shone brighter, like a flickering television set.

"Where are you taking me?" Sarah asked. Her voice was filled with such dread that her own ears barely recognized it.

One of the figures gave a course, gravelly laugh. It was hunched over and appeared to be having difficulty standing upright. Sarah narrowed her eyes at the werewolf.

"Oh, there's a press conference in about an hour about what you did for us last night," the first figure said casually. He might have been discussing something as mundane as the weather. "You'll be a very important guest. _You're going to assassinate the Minister_."

* * *

The going had become somewhat slower as the five companions made their way deeper into the forest. The intense darkness had set in upon them, and they shone their wands in every direction like aerial search lights, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sarah amongst the trees. They kept their route as straight as they could. All the while, they called her name loudly, hoping to hear a reply.

"Sarah? Sarah!" they all called alternately. Their cries were stifled by the thickness of the forest.

Harry swore softly as he nearly tripped over a root. Ginny's hands shot forth and grabbed his arm, keeping him from falling.

"It's so dark in here," Hermione whispered, "How could she have made it all this way without her wand? Oh, I do hope we find her…," she trailed off.

"Look, up ahead," Ron said, pointing some distance before them. There was a place where the trees seemed to thin out in a clearing, and the forest became slightly brighter. "Let's look in there!" he shouted hopefully, hurrying forward toward the clearing.

When he emerged from the trees, Snape's heart jumped. There she was. The girl was in the middle of a circle of cloaked, hooded figures who seemed to be taunting her and striking out at her. Wand already drawn, he did even mutter an incantation as his arm shot forward, sending an arc of red light toward the circle.

Before his spell struck, however, one of the figures yelled and deflected Snape's spell with a loud _clang_.

"Stop right there!" Snape commanded. "Let her go!"

The laughing and jeering continued for a few moments until the hooded figures realized just how many other people had entered the clearing. They fell silent, all turning toward the spot where Snape, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron stood, side-by-side, wands drawn.

"We would rather not, actually," one of the figures spoke up.

Harry's eyes narrowed. This voice, once again, sounded vaguely familiar to him, and foggy images began swimming across his mind's eye; an image of a man with an overhanging forehead, long black hair, and a beard streaked with silver. Harry gritted his teeth. He immediately knew he had heard this voice on the night when he and Sarah had been ambushed at Archer Crescent, but why did it seem so familiar to him? Why did he feel as if he had heard it once before that night?

Harry was pulled back into the moment when he began to take stock of the other figures. One of them was burly-looking and hunched, and beneath the hood of another, Harry detected a faint, violet glow.

"The vampire," he whispered, just loud enough for his companions to hear, "And Greyback." Everyone nodded once and steeled themselves.

"We know who you are," Harry shouted back. "We'll expose you to the authorities!"

The figure in the center laughed loudly. The others chortled as well.

"I'm sorry to break this to you, boy," the figure with the familiar voice spoke, "But," the figure's arms reached up toward his hood, pulling it back. "We _are_ the authorities."

Harry started at what he saw; standing there in the middle of the hooded figures was none other than Pius Thicknesse, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and former Minister for Magic under Voldemort's puppet regime, while Imperiused.

All eyes on Harry's side of the clearing widened. All of them were suddenly beginning to see how the dominos were falling, how the puzzle pieces were all fitting in to place. All of the headlines in the _Prophet_ made sense now, all of their mysterious, anonymous tip-offs and confidential leaks of information about what Sarah and Harry had been up to, all of Thicknesse's constant criticism and undermining of Shacklebolt's leadership in light of the Ministry infiltration and the break-in at Gringotts.

Beside Harry, Hermione gave a squeak. She had no doubt figured out the entire puzzle before his mind had even got there.

"So that's it, is it?" Harry yelled, "Still fancy yourself the proper Minister, and want your job back?"

"Clever," Thicknesse replied, "That's the gist of it, yes. The public doesn't know what is good for them anymore. I am going to see that it is fixed. Enough of Shacklebolt's lax, weak, Muggle-and-mudblood-loving regime."

"That Imperius curse must have been poorly performed on you," Harry spat, "It seems to have addled your brains."

"Hardly," Thicknesse shot back, "If anyone's brains are addled, they are yours, and your little friend's, here," Thicknesse said, flicking his wand at Sarah, whose shackles sprang to life and straightened her up into an uncomfortable standing position. She looked like nothing more than a marionette on strings. "So far, you have done everything that we wanted you to do. Now we are here to make sure the final act is completed."

"And the rest of you?" Harry shouted at them. He now knew Thicknesse's identity, which he added to the vampire's and the werewolf's. The other three, however, were still unknown.

"Just concerned citizens, Potter," said another voice. Another cloaked figure un-hooded himself. There stood the former Death Eater who had wormed his way deep into Voldemort's Ministerial regime. Yaxley.

Harry felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

The vampire and the werewolf un-hooded themselves as well; their identities were already known. The other two, realizing that they were the only ones still wearing hoods, removed theirs as well. There stood Travers, another Death Eater who should have been dead or locked up in Azkaban, and Runcorn, the massive, Muggleborn-hating ministry employee whom Harry had once transformed into via Polyjuice Potion. Harry felt several more dull blows to his stomach. Once again, it seemed as if the peace he had fought so hard to achieve was crashing down around his ears. It was not difficult to see how these people had escaped Azkaban or execution, with Thicknesse working on their side.

"How did they trick you into springing them, then?" Harry asked.

"It was no trick, Potter," Yaxley spat back, "As you can see, Thicknesse here is the only one among us who can live a public life after what happened. The rest of us didn't really fancy spending the rest of our lives in Azkaban, or being killed. I had useful information on how Thicknesse could get his job back. He was interested, so he let me go. I managed to convince him to spring Travers and Runcorn, too. Greyback escaped on his own, of course. Vincent came to us on his own. We don't fancy having to live the rest of our lives in secret, see?"

"And what information might that have been?" Harry demanded, though he already knew what the answer was.

"You see, when I had unrestricted access to the Ministry, I paid several visits to the Unspeakables down in the Department of Mysteries," Yaxley explained, sounding quite proud of himself. "They keep track of some interesting stuff down there, Potter, stuff that not even the Minister knows. That's how we found out about the mudblood here, the one they took away because they were afraid of her," he said motioning to Sarah.

"They must have known what we were up to at some point," Thicknesse spoke up, "When they moved what we wanted you to find into Gringotts. They knew you took the phony files. Nearly mucked up the whole thing. The Unspeakables sure cover up their tracks neatly, don't they?"

"What could you possibly want with her?" Harry shouted, eyeing Sarah and the mysterious shackles that were binding her.

"She's a ticking time bomb, this one," Yaxley went on, "We just need her to go off in the right place," he laughed maniacally, and his allies sniggered.

Harry clenched his teeth, tightening the grip on his wand as he pointed it squarely in Yaxley's direction. There were a thousand questions racing through his mind. Luckily, Snape was the next to speak up, airing a suspicion that had been growing inside of him, too.

"_You_ are responsible for bringing her here, aren't you?" Snape accused. His wand was trained on Thicknesse's chest.

"Caught on, have you?" Yaxley laughed again, "That's right. We went and got her. Plunked her down in the forest and set her off in the right direction," he explained. "The Imperius Curse is a wonderful tool."

Sarah, still bound in an uncomfortable standing position by her shackles, shuddered. Her previous night's thoughts were flooding back to her. _That_ was why she could not remember the names and faces of her 'friends', or how she had come to be in the forest in the first place. There had never been any friends; only these deviously plotting people who had grand designs for her to bring about another regime change under their direction. She had been Imperiused, taken across the ocean, placed in the correct location, and supplied with a believable story of how she had come to be there.

She felt her stomach churning. If she could move at all, she might have gagged. This entire time, she had simply been a pawn of these people.

"Release her immediately," Snape spoke, his tone dangerous. It was clear that, should they not comply, he was ready to kill each and every one of them.

"Sorry, but I'm afraid we can't be doing that," Thicknesse said, "She has an important event to attend. We can't keep the good Minister waiting, can we?"

With a quick glance to one another, Harry, Snape, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all took a step forward, illustrating their readiness to fight. The people on the other end of the clearing, however, did not budge an inch.

"We're not afraid of you any more, Potter," Yaxley said, raising his own wand to point squarely at Harry's chest.

"That's right," Thicknesse said. "There's no need to be. _We_ have the weapon _now_," he said, flicking his wand again at Sarah; her strange shackles glowed brighter and moved, compelling Sarah to strike a fighting stance. The look on her face was one of sheer terror.

"She is not a weapon!" Harry shouted, continuing to advance, ready to fight.

"I disagree," Thicknesse replied flatly, flicking his wand at Sarah again.

The glowing shackles shone even brighter, and Sarah suddenly screamed as if she were under the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. Her body shook as much as the shackles would allow, but she could not move or writhe in pain; only scream out.

"Stop it!" Hermione screamed.

Thicknesse flicked his wand again and Sarah fell silent, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harry yelled.

"Setting her off," Thicknesse replied matter-of-factly.

"You fool," Snape roared, "She'll kill us all! _You included!_"

"No chance," Yaxley huffed, "See these pretty shackles she's wearing? Borrowed those from the Unspeakables, too. They were developing them to use on inmates in Azkaban. They had to figure out some way of keeping them under control after the Dementors defected to our side, before we took over the Ministry. She won't be able to do anything that we don't want her to do."

Thicknesse flicked his wand again. Sarah gave a piercing cry of pain.

"Enough!" Harry raised his wand, about to strike.

Suddenly, the air around them seemed to grow colder and thicker. Harry tilted his head upward to see two Dementors gliding down toward them from the treetops. He almost laughed.

"Is that the best you've got?" he snorted, slashing his wand forward and yelling, "_Expecto Patronum!_" The silver stag shot forth, blindingly bright in the darkness of the forest. It charged through the air at the Dementor to the left.

Snape followed suit, slashing his wand toward the right Dementor, and shouting, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

However, he nearly lost all focus on his spell as soon as he saw the Patronus which came forth.

Instead of his silver doe, a huge, silvery, muscular lion had burst forth from the tip of his wand, its thick, regal-looking mane flowing gracefully as it charged toward the Dementor. Its long fangs were bared in a silent roar.

"Wow," Hermione and Ginny murmured simultaneously. Unfortunately, they had no further time to marvel at the sudden change in Snape's Patronus.

From the other side of the clearing, spells were being fired at them. The two Patronuses had only managed to send the Dementors back up toward the treetops before their owners were forced to begin dueling the figures across the clearing. The animals of glowing light vanished, and the Dementors began swooping back down, dangerously low. They stayed on the sidelines as the duels began, however, perhaps waiting for the opportune moment to strike…

Everyone else, however, did not have time to think about them. It was a five-on-five duel. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all locked in singular combat with a formidable opponent. Snape, meanwhile, was fighting the vampire, Vincent, whose spell-slinging sword was already unsheathed and working its terrifying magic. Harry was fighting to keep Greyback at bay, who was not so much attempting to duel him as he was trying to physically attack him.

In the middle of it all stood Thicknesse, continuing to torture Sarah, whose screams were growing louder and more pained. Her eyes were shut tightly, and her runed shackles gleamed and glowed as brightly as the spells and curses being fired all around her. The yells of her friends fighting for her were ringing in her ears, and she could see the flashing lights of the duels on her eyelids. It was chaos. She was terrified and helpless. Her friends might be killed before her very eyes. They might die fighting for her.

Even as she screamed in agony, she was beginning to sense the same strange feeling boiling up inside her that she had last experienced in Professor McGonagall's office before losing control…

When Thicknesse gave her a moment's reprieve, she bared her teeth and glared at her torturer, and her red eyes flashed dangerously.

"That's right," Thicknesse said lowly, "Get mad. Get angry."

Sarah's expression of ferocity immediately melted away when she realized what he was trying to do to her. She shut her eyes tightly as she tried her best to focus. _No, no!_ she shouted inside of her head, _I won't, I won't lose control again, I can't!_ Before she could marshal her thoughts any further, Thicknesse laughed as he sent more excruciating pain racking through her body.

Harry yelled in triumph as he landed a particularly well-aimed stunner on Greyback, who yelped as he was blasted back into the trees, temporarily out of sight. He immediately turned to where Thicknesse was standing and raised his wand, but Thicknesse was alert. He raised his own wand; Sarah's shackles shifted again, causing her to leap directly between he and Harry.

Harry paused just before sending a curse directly at her. He heard Thicknesse's laugh above the din of the battle.

"Well, if you won't fight her, then _she'll_ fight _you_!" Thicknesse slashed his wand at the girl.

Harry watched as Sarah ran toward him with alarming speed; when she was only a few meters away, she leapt high into the air, her fist drawn back, her face painted in terror.

"Move!" she screamed helplessly to Harry, who seemed to be rooted on the spot.

At the last second, Harry dove to the side. Sarah landed and struck the ground where he was standing with such force that she sent a small wave of earth away from her. Before she could even register what she was doing next, she felt her leg jut out behind her in a sweeping kick, and she connected with something. There was a dull thud as Harry fell to the ground on his back, and Sarah was suddenly standing above him, fist raised.

"No!" Sarah shouted, attempting to fight the control the shackles held over her with every fiber of her being, but it was no use. She felt her fist plummeting downward, and she shut her eyes. She could not possibly watch as she was forced to injure one of her friends.

Mercifully, her fist connected only with dirt, but before she had time to feel relief, she was throwing a flurry of punches and kicks at Harry, who was trying desperately to dodge them. Some distance away, Thicknesse was laughing as he bobbed his wand up and down in Sarah's direction, controlling her like a puppet.

"Harry, behind you!" Sarah screamed as she attacked her friend; something huge and four-legged was bounding out of the trees directly at Harry.

Harry ducked and wheeled around just to see Greyback lunging at him, his muscular arms outstretched, claws bared. He did the only thing he could do. He dove out of the way and heard a thud as Greyback inadvertently tackled Sarah to the ground. In the split second he had before the werewolf could renew his assault, Harry slashed his wand toward Thicknesse.

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Thicknesse swore loudly as his wand shot from his hand, twirling through the air for some distance until it came to rest on the edge of the clearing. He scrambled after it, and Harry raised his wand to strike, but a growl from behind told him that he had no time. He spun about again, slashing his wand at the werewolf.

"_Sectumsempra!_"

The werewolf yelped and retreated back as a large gash appeared across his chest. Harry could see that while Thicknesse did not have his wand, Sarah was lying on the ground, as limp as a rag doll. He ran over to her and his hands shot out for the thick binding around her neck, but as soon as his fingers touched the metal, he received what felt like a strong electric shock.

"Harry!" Sarah was yelling again, and he immediately knew why. A feeling of cold dread washed over him as one of the Dementors drew closer. He stood and raised his wand, but not before a galloping silver horse charged past him, sending the Dementor back toward the trees. Harry turned to see Ginny running toward him, apparently having managed to land a full body bind on Runcorn. He felt a small amount of relief wash over him as he saw that she was alright, but as soon as he turned back, the werewolf was regaining his composure.

"I'm fine!" Harry yelled to her, "Help the others! Distract Thicknesse so he can't control Sarah any more!"

Ginny gave a quick nod and dashed toward Thicknesse, who was groping for his wand in the underbrush. He picked up a fallen twig hopefully, but then tossed it aside.

Sarah continued to lay motionless on the ground as the fight raged on all around her. She could hear the crackling of spells and cries of pain, though she had no hope of telling who they belonged to. Her head was buzzing. She could feel a strange heat building inside her, but she was trying with all of her might to push it down. She continued to struggle fruitlessly against her bonds.

The werewolf drew nearer to Harry, and they began circling each other slowly. Greyback was snarling, and not even attempting to walk upright. Harry steadied himself. He knew very well that only one of them was going to walk away from this fight.

Without warning, Greyback leapt at him again, but Harry was ready. He spun around with impressive speed, waving his wand through the air in a graceful arc as he managed to pull off another powerful slashing curse nonverbally. A second gash raked the werewolf's chest, forming a large, bloody X; he yelped and dropped out of the air, but continued charging at Harry.

Sarah was lying close by as she heard Harry and Greyback clashing viciously. The rest of the battle continued to rage on around her, and she could not tell what was going on. Harry soon yelled out in pain, and she was sure that Greyback had managed to hurt him. The helplessness and fear were coursing through her now, and she could no longer manage to push down the anger boiling up inside her.

_I need to help, I need to help them,_ she thought feebly as her mind became slow and sluggish. She was having difficulty pushing thoughts through it now. Her body was still thrumming with the agony that Thicknesse had inflicted on her.

Harry yelled out in pain again, and she also heard a cry which very well might belong to Snape…

_Have to… help…_

There it was again. Severus was crying out in pain, no doubt inflicted upon him by whoever he was dueling. Little did she know, it was the vampire. She felt indescribable anger building up inside her.

"I'll kill you!" she roared out, attempting to thrash against the bonds holding her, "I'll kill all of you for this!" At that instant, she felt everything at once. She felt the anger, the pain, the sadness of learning the truth, of learning she had a family that was unaware of her existence, of learning why she had been abducted away from her birthplace and swept under the rug, and learning how these manipulative men had plotted to use her as a weapon. She couldn't help it any more.

She felt herself slipping away, and she could not stop it.

Her eyes fell shut. When they opened again, they were glowing; bright, solid red.

* * *

Harry was in bad shape. He had already been slashed across the chest by Greyback, and now the werewolf had knocked him down onto his back and was looming above him, his arm held aloft, claws gleaming. He struggled to raise his wand again, and braced himself for another savage blow…

Before anything else could happen, he felt the ground tremble powerfully beneath him. There came what sounded like a loud explosion from just several meters away, accompanied by a bright flash. The werewolf yelped suddenly and sprang back as if something had struck him; Harry rolled onto his front to look toward the source of the light.

Sarah was on her feet, but Harry's stomach sank at what he saw. In spite of the strange, magical bonds sealed around her neck, ankles, and wrists, she was standing. Her face was not visible to him, but by the red light he could see, he knew her eyes were glowing bright red in the darkness of the clearing… So too was the strange mark on her wrist, and the odd new stripes on her forearms.

The werewolf let out another loud growl, and Harry watched as Sarah's head turned slowly in the direction of the noise. Harry's mouth fell open. There were glowing red stripes adorning her face now, just beneath her eyes, and along her cheeks. The

damage was spreading rapidly.

Harry heard the werewolf charging at him again. He rolled onto his back, his wand pointed at Greyback's chest. He braced himself for impact, but it never came. There was another blinding flash of light, and he watched as the werewolf was quite literally blasted backward a considerable distance.

While Greyback was still airborne, Harry righted himself into a sitting position, just in time to see the final, gruesome moments of Fenrir Greyback's life; he had been blasted back with such incredible force that he landed on, and was quite literally impaled through the chest by, a jagged, out-jutting branch belonging to a fallen tree on the edge of the clearing. Greyback twitched pathetically for a few moments before falling quite still.

Harry should have been relieved, but he was more frightened than ever. He jumped to his feet and faced Sarah. He felt a fresh rush of fear course through his body. As far as he could tell from her glowing, pupilless eyes, she was staring straight at him. Even so, she gave no sign whatsoever that she recognized him. Her face was blank and impassive. Her hair and clothing was flowing just as Harry had seen before, as if an unnatural wind was being whipped up all around her.

When Sarah made no move, Harry took advantage of the momentary pause to survey the battlefield. Runcorn was still down and struggling against the body bind which had been placed upon him by Ginny. She was now dueling with Thicknesse who had apparently retrieved his wand. Hermione was still locked in combat with Yaxley, holding her own, and Ron, who had just managed to stun Travers, was rushing to her aid.

Snape looked once more as if he were fencing with the vampire. They were in extremely close combat, moving blazingly fast. Snape looked somewhat bloodied, and parts of his long, flowing robes were torn. Luckily, the Dementors were still keeping to the edges of the clearing.

Harry hesitated. He didn't know what to do next. It did not look as if Snape were faring well against Vincent, but Thicknesse looked about ready to overpower Ginny. He needed to be permanently disarmed or incapacitated in order to prevent him from attempting to exert any more control over Sarah in her dangerous state. He nodded once to himself and began sprinting toward Ginny, firing curses at the vampire as he ran; when Vincent had to pause in his attacks in order to deflect the spells with his blade, Snape was able to adjust himself and gain a better footing.

Harry reach Ginny just in time to feel as if a brick wall had struck him in the side. Thicknesse had sent stunners at both of them. He was grazed in the arm. Ginny managed to sidestep it, but was forced to lose her balance and tumble to the ground. Harry was pushed back as well, and the wind was knocked out of his lungs.

Thicknesse, still standing, saw the girl standing some distance away from him, eyes aglow.

"Perfect!" he shouted, "Yes, yes, yes!" he raised his wand and pointed it at her, giving it a flick.

_No, no,_ Harry groaned inside his head, turning to look at Sarah. He watched as she was forced to turn in their direction, and one of her arms was raised out in front of her, her palm outstretched, her fingers splayed…

Harry scrambled over to where Ginny lay, and covered her with his body, his eyes shut tight…

Nothing happened.

He opened his eyes again and saw Sarah's entire body tense visibly. Under her own power, she yanked her arm back to her side. She tilted her head slightly at Thicknesse.

"No!" Thicknesse screamed, slashing his wand toward the girl a second time.

Her entire body tensed again. He was inflicting pain upon her once again. Sarah's eyes remained open, glowing brightly, glued on Thicknesse. She bared her teeth and let out a fearsome yell.

With another blinding flash of light, Harry smothered Ginny with his body again, just in time; the bonds holding Sarah exploded. A shockwave of force was sent through the clearing, knocking anyone who was still standing off of their feet. Chunks of metallic shrapnel were sent in every direction.

Travers was just regaining his footing, but was knocked off of his feet by the shockwave. A shard of metal struck him directly in the throat. He fell to the grass, writhing and clutching at his neck, attempting to stem the flow of blood that was gushing forth from him.

When everything settled momentarily, Harry looked up again. Sarah was standing motionless on the spot where she had broken her bonds.

"You idiot!" Harry shouted at Thicknesse, "Do you realize what you've done?"

Thicknesse did not reply. Instead, he shot a curse straight at Sarah.

"No!" Harry yelled, he raised his wand and attempted to conjure a shield charm between her and the curse, but he was not fast enough.

When the spell reached Sarah, she simply batted it away. It ricocheted off of the back of her hand into the trees where it exploded, creating a small fire. Sarah then turned to directly face Thicknesse, eyes ablaze, face blank. Harry felt his stomach sinking again as he knew what was to happen next. He stood up, lifting Ginny roughly by her shoulders.

"Run!" he shouted, steering her toward the other side of the clearing where Snape was again battling the vampire after the momentary pause. Hermione and Ron were still fighting Yaxley.

Harry did not even see what happened next. There was another huge explosion. He felt a wave of heat nearly burning his back as he retreated from the spot where Sarah was, and another shockwave sent both he and Ginny tumbling to the ground. They scrambled to their feet again. Ginny began firing hexes at Yaxley, while Harry shot a stunner squarely at the vampire's head.

In that moment, the vampire ducked Harry's spell and managed to graze Snape with his blade. Snape staggered back, and the vampire instantly shifted his attention to The-Boy-Who-Lived. Harry soon found himself overwhelmed. He doubted he had ever fought a fiercer or more agile opponent than Vincent. It was all he could do to avoid the wicked, slashing blade which pursued him ruthlessly at every movement.

Harry could not shift his attention from his fight with the vampire. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were all absorbed in fighting Yaxley. None of them saw as Sarah slowly turned to face them. Snape lay bleeding on the ground a short distance away. His wand had fallen from his hand.

In the heat of battle, no one noticed as the cold washed over them once again.

The Dementors were swooping down upon them. They had spotted a prone, defenseless victim.

Harry could see the shadowy, hooded figures moving in the corner of his eye, but he could spare no time to conjure his Patronus. _Come on, Snape, come on,_ he found himself crying inside his head, _come on!_. He could hear the sucking, the rasping breath…

Snape was paralyzed when the Dementors swooped down upon him. He was wounded, and frozen. With his right hand, he groped for his wand in the grass beside him, but could not find it. He could not bring himself to yell out for help. His heart nearly stopped beating when he felt the cold, scaly hand tilt his chin upward.

"No, no!" Harry shouted, but he could not disentangle himself from Vincent, or risk turning away. If he did, the vampire would surely run him through.

The Dementors were looming directly above Snape, drawing their hoods back. He felt a strange rush of affection for the man whom he had once hated, and a strong desire to save him…

The girl with the glowing red eyes watched passively as the two hideous creatures loomed above the dark-haired man lying on the ground. They tilted his head upward, drawing their hoods back from their heads, exposing their hideous, eyeless faces and their great, sucking mouths. They were preparing to feast upon the man's soul.

The girl's glowing red eyes widened slightly as she witnessed the act. A faint voice was speaking inside her mind. Something wasn't quite right here.

_No, no…_ the voice whispered, trying to break through the haze, _Severus… Severus… No…_

The girl was watching as one of the creatures lowered its mouth down, sucking relentlessly. The man's body became taut as he attempted to turn his head away, but the creature's hand held fast to his neck…

_No… Severus… Severus…_ the dim voice grew louder. The glowing red eyes widened further.

_No… No… NO!_ the voice screamed, piercing through the haze. The creature released its grip on the man. His head fell limply to the side.

_**NO!**_

The girl's eyes shut tight as she waged a fierce battle within her own mind.

Another shockwave rent the clearing.

"No!" Sarah yelled out, her voice blaring, echoing far and wide.

Harry was lying on the ground, having been knocked over again. His eyes fell upon Sarah.

When she opened her eyes, they were still glowing quite brightly, but her familiar red irises were clearly visible amidst the whites. She blinked hard several times as she looked down and examined herself. The stripes on her arms were glowing, as well as the mark on her wrist. She could not see, but the new stripes on her face were glowing, too.

She was completely aware of herself. For the first time, she could feel the tremendous amounts of magical energy flowing through her body. She felt invincible. She felt unstoppable. She also felt an excruciating pain which seemed to permeate through to the very core of her being, threatening to tear her very soul asunder. Immediately, she knew that this might be the last sensation she ever experienced.

She snapped back to reality when she saw the movement of creatures hovering above Severus. She suddenly realized what had happened.

They had taken away his soul. _His soul_…

Sarah's eyes grew quite wide before she lunged forward a sizeable distance toward the Dementors. Part of her had no idea what she was doing, but another part of her was acting purely upon the instinct and magic flowing within her. When her feet hit the ground, she shot both of her palms forth. She sent two streaks of blindingly white energy toward the creatures, brighter and more pure than sunlight; when they were struck by it, the Dementors gave a shrieking cry, and disintegrated. She had killed them.

The only two enemies now left standing were Vincent and Yaxley. All dueling had paused as a result of the blinding flash of what seemed like sunlight which had destroyed the Dementors. Sarah turned toward them next, and Ron gave a whimper as he saw her. Hermione began backing toward the edge of the clearing.

"Take cover!" Harry shouted to them, taking a firm grip of Ginny's wrist and pulling her toward the trees. He could definitely sense that something was different about Sarah this time, but he still did not trust her overwhelming, volatile power. She might very well inadvertently kill all of them. Together, they all sprinted for the cover of the trees.

"_Vampire_," Sarah growled as she turned to Vincent. Her voice was extremely loud and menacing; it sounded as if many people were speaking at once. There were very few thoughts racing through Sarah's mind at this point. This man had hurt Snape. This man had incapacitated him. This man was the reason he had fallen victim to the Dementors. She lunged at him.

Vincent steadied himself, a confident sneer upon his gaunt face. He raised his sword at the girl, but his features twisted into a grimace of fright and disgust as he lost his grip on the hilt. It had burned him. He hurried to grab it again, but it was too far out of his reach; the chain attaching the blade to his wrist snapped taut. His violet eyes widened as he watched the girl slash her hand toward him. He could do nothing but sputter and gag his chain began to coil itself around his neck.

No one else was watching as Sarah began to savage him with his own weapons. Yaxley had attempted to help his ally when the girl attacked him, but failed. When Sarah finally stopped, both men were lying quite still on the clearing's floor, and Sarah's body and face were spattered in blood. Her attention then caught when she saw Runcorn squirming on the ground some distance away, still struggling against a body-bind, and plainly terrified at the fate which had just befallen his comrades. Pitilessly, Sarah slashed her hand toward where he lay. Five thin streaks of bright yellow energy shot out at him, racking his body with a cutting curse so powerful that some of his limbs nearly parted his company. He moved no more.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all crouched behind a fallen tree on the edge of the clearing, watching her with trepidation. Was she about to turn on them next? Would they become the next bloody masses upon the forest floor?

As he was closer to his friends, Harry could see the signs of battle that they bore. Ginny was clutching her shoulder tightly; it looked as if the wounds that Sarah had given her were reopened, and bleeding. Hermione had a couple of gashes on her cheeks, and her face was smudged with dirt and sweat. Ron had a large welt on his forehead, and a sizeable bruise was forming on his cheek, and his lower lip was bloodied. Someone might have punched him directly in the face. At the same time, Harry could feel his own chest throbbing painfully, and fresh, warm blood dripping down his front where Greyback had managed to claw him. Fortunately, the wounds did not seem to be much worse than the ones he had previously received from the werewolf.

Harry clutched the fallen tree tightly. His knuckles grew white. As bad as his friends already looked, he knew that Sarah could do far worse to them, if she wanted.

"It's okay," Sarah spoke. Her voice still sounded strange. "I'm not going to hurt you."

They all poked their heads out from behind the fallen tree, watching as Sarah turned toward Snape's lifeless body. Even though her eyes were burning red, it was obvious that she was consumed with an overwhelming sadness. Her eyes dimmed slightly, and she lowered her head.

Harry swallowed back a huge lump which had been developing in his throat. None of the others had seen what happened.

"The Dementors," he choked out quietly, his voice hoarse, "His soul… his soul is gone…,"

Hermione and Ginny both let out sobs. Ron bowed his head.

"Don't worry," Sarah said. As she began to walk slowly toward Snape, she looked incredibly calm. The strange, unnatural wind was still being whipped up around her as a result of the immense power flowing through her body, threatening to tear her apart. Her hair and clothes were flowing. The blood which streaked her was drying quickly.

Harry suddenly had an extremely bad feeling. He attempted to rise up and jump over the fallen tree which he was hiding behind, but before he could even flex his knees, one of Sarah's hands shot forth toward him. He was immobilized.

"No," Sarah spoke simply. "Don't come close. Don't interfere."

Sarah was now standing next to Snape's limp, soulless body. He was still breathing, but his eyes were closed, and he did not move. She knew very well that his soul was gone.

Unable to move, Harry yelled out at her. The trees all around him were swaying violently as if there were a powerful storm moving through. He could barely even hear his own voice, but when Sarah spoke again, he could hear her quite clearly.

"Don't worry," she repeated, looking down at the soulless body of the man she had fallen in love with, "Souls have been split before, haven't they?" Crazy ideas were rushing into her mind, but from exactly where, she could not say. She had begun to feel even more strange after killing those men, and even more powerful…

Ron tried to run forward as well, but he too could not move. None of them could.

"What are you talking about?" Harry screamed at the top of his lungs.

Sarah merely looked up in their direction and smiled weakly.

She knew that she might very well be looking at her friends for the last time. She hoped that her smile had communicated everything to them; how much she loved them, and how much she appreciated their sacrifices, especially Harry's, on her behalf. She would never know what she had done to deserve such loyal, caring friends.

She then looked back to Snape. The power and the pain coursing through her were quickly becoming too much for her body to handle. She barely knew what she was doing, or what was compelling her to do it, but she knew she had to act now, or it would be too late.

When she pressed her hands to her chest, she was acting on some purely unknown instinct. With what little cognitive faculty she had left to her, she assumed that the immense amount of magic within her body was instilling her with some frightening amount of magical knowledge, giving her the ability to do anything she could possibly desire, but at a great cost…

Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were forced to watch helplessly. When Sarah drew her arms from her chest, she was holding something strange; a large, swirling ball of glowing red light, pulsing frantically in her hands as if it were a second heart. It looked swollen and ready to burst.

"What _is_ that?" Ginny screamed. It was almost impossible to hear anything now. The trees were swaying violently, the unnatural wind was howling in their ears, and the strange object in Sarah's hands seemed to be emitting a strange sort of low-frequency hum.

Harry remained silent for several moments, transfixed. He had never actually _seen_ one before, but he knew what it must be.

"Her soul!" he screamed back, and his heart skipped a beat. He had just made sense of Sarah's words. "No, no, no! Sarah, stop! Stop! You'll kill yourself!" he shouted, waving his arms at her wildly, but Sarah made no sign that she had seen or heard him. She continued to stare down at the pulsing, swirling mass of light in her hands with a sad expression on her face.

Her body was still experiencing incredible pain, but she also felt pain outside of her, too, in the unstable mass of the soul. She knew what she had to do. It was too late for her now. The damage was done. It would be broken, either way…

She placed her hands on either side of the soul, and began to open her arms as if she were going to embrace someone…

"What is she doing?" Ron bellowed as he watched.

Hermione's jaw had dropped open. She knew exactly what was going on.

"She killed those men!" she yelled, "She's splitting her soul before it tears itself apart! Like a Horcrux!" Hermione was aghast. She had no idea where Sarah could have possibly learned to do something like this.

She was acting only on instinct. The powerful magic inside her body was guiding her.

"No!" Harry groaned out, tensing every muscle in his body as he attempted to stand, but he was thoroughly immobilized by Sarah's spell. His arms were free, but he could not move from the spot. Even if he _could_ move, he would be loathe to approach Sarah any closer. Something told him that he might be killed by the pressure.

Sarah's arms were parting wide; the swirling mass of red light began to distort and stretch, and as it did, she let out a wail of unspeakable pain which grew louder and louder as her hands moved farther apart. When it finally split in two, Sarah's cry echoed deafeningly through the forest, and she fell to her knees beside Snape's body, holding the two halves of her soul in her hands.

With one last sad look toward her friends, she began to move. This was it. She just hoped, somehow, that it would work…

_Severus… I love you…_

This was her final thought as, with her left hand, she attempted to push half of her soul back into her body; her right hand stretched toward Snape, pushing the other half into his chest…

"NO!" Harry screamed out, but a split second later he could see no more.

A blinding flash of white overwhelmed his eyes. All sound vanished from the world. For a few brief moments, the forest fell away, and there was nothing but light.

Then, all was still and silent.


	30. As One

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The Name in Red

Chapter 30: As One.

* * *

She felt herself torn from her body. There was a blinding flash of white light, and then she could feel nothing but the horrible, wrenching pain. It only seemed to last only briefly. She felt it begin to fade into nothing but a dull throb in her core, until it disappeared entirely. Her ears might have been popping or ringing. She could have sworn that her eyes were wide open, but she could see only whiteness. Now, she could feel absolutely nothing.

If it were possible, she would have breathed a deep sigh of relief. The pain she had been experiencing only moments before was indescribable. Her very body had been ready to tear itself apart, or so it had felt to her. Now, however, she very much doubted that she had a body at all anymore. She felt a sort of euphoric lightness, floating along in an empty, almost colorless void, free of all sensation aside from her own thoughts.

Her weightlessness was abruptly interrupted when she felt a body rematerialize underneath her, and she dropped quite heavily onto what she assumed was the ground. She realized now that her eyes were shut, and when she opened them, the yellowish-white surface on which she rested was nearly indistinguishable from the rest of her new surroundings as she glanced to her left and right. This all changed, however, when she glanced up before her. She leaned back onto her haunches.

She was kneeling before what appeared to be an enormous gateway of wrought stone, tinted in a sort of blackish green. There were several large steps leading upward to it. Its massive doors were currently open, and whatever she could see beyond its precipice was dancing and swirling oddly, like a heat mirage. She blinked at it several times before she realized that she was not alone. Upon the gate's steps was standing a dark, hooded figure. She could not see its face. Whatever it was, it appeared to be unnaturally tall, and unusually thin.

She blinked rapidly several more times before testing the limits of her new body by lifting herself to her feet. When she did, she could not resist the urge to look down at herself. She gasped audibly, and it echoed infinitely in her hollow surroundings. Her body appeared much the same as it always had been, but as she examined her arms, they were completely normal. The strange crimson stripes had disappeared. She turned her right arm over so she could see her wrist; the strange eight-pointed mark had vanished as well. She grinned with delight. Although she was unable to see for herself, her eyes had also returned to their usual shade of dark brown.

After her momentary elation at seeing her returned-to-normal body, she looked up again, and the grin faded from her face. She examined the tall, hooded figure standing a small distance before her. Her eyes narrowed, and her brow furrowed slightly. A small, concerned pout spread across her lips.

"Hello?" she ventured tenuously, listening as her voice echoed infinitely in the void. "Where am I?"

There was a slight pause before the figure responded. Its voice was highly-pitched, slightly crackly, and sounded otherworldly…

"The Gate," it replied simply. It did not move at all.

Although she could see nothing beneath the figure's hood, she knew that _it_, whatever it was, was staring directly at her.

"Who are you?" she pressed.

There was another, longer pause.

"The Gatekeeper," the figure finally replied. Then, it spoke no more.

She raised an eyebrow high. That hadn't exactly been a profitable line of questioning. She thought for a moment before opening her mouth to speak again, but just before she could, her words fell silent in her throat; the dancing, swirling image beyond the gate swam into complete clarity before her eyes. She could see a pale-skinned man with lank, black hair, dressed in equally black robes, lying on his back on the grass of a forest clearing.

Her eyes widened terribly and her pupils constricted in horror. If this new body of hers had a heart, she would have sworn that it sent a terrifying jolt of adrenaline through her. _Now_ she remembered. She remembered what had happened. Initially, she'd had no idea what she was doing in this strange place. Now, however, she remembered. She remembered it all. She had regained control of herself. She had attempted to kill as many of her assailants as she could. She remembered the horrific pain, and how her body felt as if it were tearing apart at the seams.

Then, she had attempted to split her soul, and bestow half of it upon Severus, who had fallen victim to the Dementor's kiss…

"Severus!" she shouted, and she attempted to spring forward toward the gate, but her feet felt as if they were glued in place. She could not lift them or move an inch. "Severus!" she shouted again, her right arm shooting out toward the gate before her. It was no use; she could not move at all.

She grimaced and gritted her teeth, baring them, staring with malice at the strange, hooded figure. Perhaps _it_ had something to do with this, whatever it was.

"What's going on here?" she screamed, her voice shaking with the futile effort that her body was putting forth to move her.

"You cannot go back," the figure spoke, sounding utterly disinterested, and watching dispassionately as the girl struggled to move forward from where she stood.

"Why the hell not?" she shouted, still trying with all of her might to move her uncooperative legs forward. Her eyes were now locked on Severus' form. She had to reach him. She knew, somehow, that if she could just reach him, if she could just get through that gate, everything would be fine… everything would be alright… she just had to reach him… she just had to get back through the gate…

"You cannot go back," the figure spoke again, and its strange voice sounded more stern than it had previously.

Sarah faltered. She could not move an inch. She could not make any forward progress. She could not get any closer to the Gate, or to Severus… instantly, she felt weak, and her hands fell to her sides. Her knees were threatening to buckle under the weight of her body, which suddenly felt extremely heavy. Wherever she was, she was stuck here. Just as the Gatekeeper said, she couldn't go back…

"No, no," she whimpered. She grabbed her right knee with both hands in a futile attempt to get her leg to lift off of the yellowish, nondescript ground. When it wouldn't work, her arms fell limp to her sides.

Her eyes fell upon the Gatekeeper, who, for the first time, moved; its robed, sleeve-clad arm shot straight up, and with a great rumble, and the deafening scraping of stone on stone, the Gate's enormous doors began to inch slowly shut.

"No!" Sarah shouted with renewed fervor, her entire body trembling visibly with her efforts to move. The Gate was closing now. If it were to shut completely, she somehow knew that she would never be able to go back. She would be stuck here forever, wherever _here_ was…

She roared in frustration. If her body had been real, she knew that by now, she surely would have been feeling certain bones cracking, and pulling out of their sockets… It seemed futile, but she had to try.

"_**STOP!**_"

She suddenly stopped trying to move when a clear, deep, powerful voice rang out all around her. The Gate's enormous doors scraped to an immediate halt, and the Gatekeeper's hooded head snapped in the direction of the voice while its arm fell to its side.

She craned her head to her right. A tall man dressed in sweeping robes of midnight blue stepped out of the void, materializing before her. He had a long, flowing silver beard and the hair to match it. Upon his long, crooked noise rested a pair of half-moon-shaped spectacles. Behind them was a pair of sparkling blue eyes.

"Stop, stop right there, my friend," the man said calmly, smiling in a good-humored sort of way as he approached the Gate, holding out one of his palms for emphasis.

Sarah's jaw dropped. She had never before seen him in body before. She had seen him only in his portrait which hung above Headmistress McGonagall's desk. He had an aura of immensely commanding presence about him that surely would have cowed anyone, Sarah thought, even the haughty Gatekeeper. When he approached her more closely, she stammered. She could not think of anything to say. She knew that his presence in this place should have heartened her, but it also filled her with dread… this man that she knew as Albus Dumbledore was most assuredly dead. If _he_ were here, then that must mean…

"Am I dead?" Sarah asked meekly, her voice a mere whisper. She was now staring up into the kind, wizened face, which to her surprise, smiled back down upon her.

Dumbledore laughed amusedly.

"That is always everyone's first question, isn't it?" he said, laughing softly. "There are so many other, more profound questions one might ask in this place, and receive an answer to," he smiled.

When the concern did not fade from the girl's face, he chuckled again.

"I apologize," he said, "No, no I do not believe that you are dead, but you do need to rejoin your body."

Sarah's features rearranged themselves slightly, although she did not feel much relief at all.

"What is this place?" Sarah asked, looking around.

Dumbledore looked contemplative for a moment before replying.

"Hmm, it always seems to take a different shape for every individual, doesn't it?" he replied simply, examining their immediate surroundings.

Sarah stammered audibly. So far, Dumbledore didn't seem very good at answering her burning questions…

When he saw the girl's distress, he laughed again and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry," he said.

As soon as Dumbledore touched her, Sarah felt her entire body relax, like some enormous weight had been taken off of her. She lifted each of her feet from the ground in turn; she was no longer stuck. She was no longer immobilized. She straightened up.

"If I'm not dead…," Sarah began, but lost her train of thought when her eyes once again focused on the hazy, swirling image visible through the gate, of Severus lying on his back in that far-away Forbidden Forest clearing.

"I saw what happened," Dumbledore said solemnly. "You were very brave to attempt that."

"Did it work?" Sarah choked out, turning back to the old man, searching his piercing blue eyes desperately for an answer. They twinkled brightly as a broad smile spread across his face.

"Look for yourself," he replied, motioning back toward the Gate.

Sarah immediately looked back through the Gate. There, on the forest floor, Severus was stirring. He began coughing like a man who had very nearly drowned, gasping for air.

Elation shot through her and she almost jumped off of the ground in delight, but her newfound joy quickly faded when she remembered where she was, and why she must be in this place.

"What about me?" she asked, turning back to Dumbledore, whose expression became thoughtful.

"I cannot say for sure," he replied honestly, "As I have told your friend Harry on more than one occasion, these are realms of deep magic which are hitherto unknown and untested. _However,_" he pressed on more loudly when the girl's expression became grave, "I can venture a guess."

Sarah nodded in eagerness.

"You acted quite wisely, actually," Dumbledore continued, "Your soul was in such an overwhelming state of power and instability that, had the state persisted, it surely would have been destroyed, most likely in unison with your entire physical being."

Sarah listened silently.

"You split your soul, however," Dumbledore said, "And in doing so, it seems you mitigated the damage. You then attempted to fuse half of it into Severus' being, and force the other half back into yourself. I do not believe that your body was destroyed. The sheer shock of such an action, however, probably caused you to wind up here. It is not every day that a witch has her soul split in half, you know. One body alone could not handle such a burden as yours, but perhaps two-,"

"I'm not dead, then?" Sarah asked quickly and hopefully, interrupting him.

"Your body remains," Dumbledore said, "There should be no reason why what I see before me – you, your soul – should be unable to return to it. Nor do I think you will ever need to have such a concern again, I'm afraid," he finished gravely, and he turned his own gaze toward the Gate.

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked.

Dumbledore turned back to her.

"You now have the most intimate bond of sharing a soul with this man," he said, motioning toward the Gate, "An instance such as this has never before been documented in the history of magic as we know it. I believe that, while he lives, you are also tethered to life, and vice versa."

"Does that mean that I-," Sarah began, but was interrupted when the Gatekeeper, who had thus far remained silent during their exchange, spoke up.

"Enough," the strange voice spoke up. It raised its arm and Sarah once again became immobilized.

With a wave of Dumbledore's arm, however, the spell lifted a second time.

"You know the rules," Dumbledore spoke with confidence, "You cannot keep this girl."

"You have no authority here," spoke the Gatekeeper. Its gaze was locked directly on Dumbledore. Whatever lay beneath that shadowy hood, Sarah knew she did not want to see.

"Run," Dumbledore whispered suddenly, just loud enough for Sarah to hear. He raised his arm again and thrust it directly toward the Gatekeeper.

Sarah did not know what was going on, nor did she care; she did not hesitate for a moment. She sprinted as fast as she could toward the Gate's great opening, beyond which lay the man she loved. As soon as she moved, its enormous doors began slowly scraping shut once again. Behind her there was a great racket from where Dumbledore and the Gatekeeper stood apart from one another, the infinitely loud sound of powerful magic crackling…

Her entire body… or was it even her body at all? Dumbledore had said something about her soul… her entire being was burning in strain with the effort she put forth, dashing toward the Gate as quickly as she could. Her legs feeling as if they were ablaze, she sprinted up the steps toward the enormous doors. She reached them just as they were about to close shut. There was only a slight amount of space to spare between them. Both of her hands shot out, grabbing each door, and she began pushing with all of her might.

To her complete and utter surprise, the doors screeched to a halt when she began trying to pry them apart. Every muscle was taut. She could feel the incredible force of the doors pushing into her body, trying to close…

"No!" she shouted, her teeth gritting and her eyes shut tight as she pushed against the doors of the Gate. "No!" More sounds of calamity and chaos issued from behind her, but she dared not turn about to look as Dumbledore faced off with the Gatekeeper. She knew that her only focus must be to get beyond the Gate's doors.

She faltered, her entire body shaking violently against the might of the stone doors. She fought with all of her might, struggling to keep them open, even the tiniest bit; her eyelids sprang open, and once again, she caught a glimpse of what lay beyond the gate…

There was Severus, lying prone on the floor of the Forbidden Forest clearing, coughing and stirring, alive, and aware… she knew that she had to get back to him.

"No!" she shouted again, with every ounce of conviction in her being; she dug her feet into the ground and pushed as hard as she could, trying to force the doors to remain open.  
"No!" she bellowed. Although she did not notice, her voice echoed powerfully all around her. Tears began to well up hotly in her eyes as she fought. "No! Send me back! I love him!"

She thought only of Severus as she made one final push with the last of her strength, with every fiber of her being…

"_**SEND… ME… BACK!**_"

There was another white-hot flash of light, and she once again felt the sensation of becoming disembodied… she could see and hear no more… she knew nothing.

* * *

When Harry came around, the world about him was deathly silent. He was lying on his back, his glasses askew, and his chest throbbing painfully from his fresh wounds courtesy of Fenrir Greyback. With one quick glance to his right, he could see Ron, Hermione, and Ginny in a similar state of disarray. They were all lying in varying states of dishevelment next to the large, fallen log, behind which they had taken shelter during Sarah's terrifying display of power.

Harry gasped audibly, and with a jolt, he shot upright. He realized what must have just happened. Hermione had explained it to all of them while it had been happening. Sarah had just attempted to split her soul. A dark sense of dread filled his heart, and Harry felt paralyzed for several seconds. He knew all too well how souls could be split to inhabit inanimate objects in order to preserve their master, but splitting a soul in order to preserve the life of someone beloved? Attempting to split a soul and endow another living human being with the spark of life? As far as Harry knew, something such as that had never been attempted before. He could not imagine how Sarah could have come to have the knowledge of how to split her soul, or how such an act could possibly be successful.

When feeling returned to his extremities, he leapt to his feet.

The clearing before him was silent and still. Some distance away from him, he could see Snape lying on his back, stirring slightly. A few yards away from Snape lay Sarah. She was lying on her stomach. She was completely still. Further away from their forms lay the bodies of two men who were now unrecognizable, though Harry knew that they must have once belonged to Vincent, the vampire, and to Yaxley. Several yards away lay the sliced body of Runcorn.

Harry sprang forward, leaping across the fallen log and running as quickly as he could to the spot where Snape was. From behind him, the crunching of fallen twigs and branches let him know that Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were also springing into action.

When Harry reached Snape, he fell to his knees, and his hand shot fort to his neck in order to find the man's pulse; he recoiled, however, when his hand was batted forcefully away by the man who lay before him. Snape coughed and sputtered as if he had almost drowned, all the while forcing Harry, who was looming above him, away. Behind Harry, muffled footsteps made themselves apparent as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny appeared around him, peering down at Snape's form.

"Is he—is he-," Hermione stuttered, but Snape silenced her.

"I'm not dead, you silly girl," he spat, sitting up with extreme effort. For some reason unbeknownst to him, his entire body felt weak and drained. He had almost no strength whatsoever left in his muscles. This did not surprise him, however, as he had just endured a fierce battle with a magically adept vampire.

When he reached a sitting position, he nearly doubled over. His head was throbbing in a pain so intense that he had never felt anything akin to it before. Somewhere inside his chest, he could feel something stirring. It felt odd, as if there were a small creature inside it struggling to escape because it did not belong there. Without noticing what he was doing, he began massaging his chest with his right hand. To the untrained eye, it might have appeared as if he were experiencing chest pain.

When he was able to survey the carnage which lay before him—the mutilated bodies of Vincent, Yaxley, and Runcorn—he rounded suddenly on the boy kneeling next to him. His deep, black eyes widened in horror. He remembered something, vaguely… he remembered the freezing embrace of a Dementor, its cold, scabby hand gripping his neck in its icy tendrils, tilting his head upward. From that point on, he remembered nothing.

"What happened?" Snape demanded. Thus far, he had not glanced to his left, where Sarah's lifeless body lay.

Without speaking, Harry's bright green eyes made a path over to the girl. Snape's gaze immediately shot over in that direction, beholding her for the first time. She was lying face-down in the grass. The clothing she wore was nearly torn to shreds. She was not moving.

Snape's first instinct was to spring to his feet and rush over to her, but he soon found that he could not stand up under his own power. He struggled for several seconds before he felt Harry's strong grip on his right shoulder, and the Weasley boy's grip on his left; with a great heave, they righted him onto his feet and helped him make his way over to the place where Sarah lay. Hermione and Ginny followed sheepishly behind them, deeply afraid of what they might see.

Snape, standing only with the support of Ron and Harry, looked down upon Sarah in silent horror. Several moments passed before anyone dared speak.

"What happened?" Snape asked, his normally deep, commanding voice sounding oddly hollow and shaky. "To both of us?"

The strange new presence in his chest continued to stir violently. He almost felt as if he were going to be sick to his stomach to relieve himself of the strange sensation.

Both Ron and Harry found it uncomfortably disconcerting. They shifted nervously under his weight, eyeing Sarah themselves. They had no idea what had become of her after the great white flash had occurred.

Luckily, Hermione was the bravest among them. She stepped around them and came to kneel on the other side of Sarah's body. She looked down upon her sadly.

"A Dementor got you," Hermione whispered, her own voice extremely shaky. "It got you. When Sarah saw, she lost control, she—she-,"

Hermione sobbed into her sleeve and sniffed loudly. No one else dared speak. Snape, enraptured, was hanging on her every word, and did not dare to look at Sarah's body again.

Hermione attempted to regain her composure and went on speaking.

"She lost control," she continued. "She attacked everyone. Then she—she-," Hermione hesitated again, struggling to find the words to describe what she had seen. Harry, Ron, and Ginny were all looking at her, straining to fight back the tears that were forming in their eyes. Thanks to her, they all knew what had happened, but none of them dared speak it. "She tried to split her soul," Hermione finished, looking up into Snape's stricken face, the tears now streaming liberally down her cheeks.

Ron jerked involuntarily, consumed with the urge to go and comfort her, but he did not move. Along with Harry, he was supporting Snape's weight.

"She—what-?" Snape asked, his voice empty. His normally pale features had already drained of whatever color they had left. He looked as white as a ghost. Without warning, he shrugged himself out of the support of Potter and the Weasley boy. Unable to support himself under his own power, he fell to his knees beside the girl's limp form. As he drew closer to her body, the stirring of the strange presence within his chest intensified tenfold, and he knew the Granger girl's words very well might be true. It felt as if the new soul fragment within him was swirling eagerly as it came closer to its original body, probably eager to rejoin it once more…

"No," Snape said feebly, his arms outstretched as he came to embrace her body. He was shaking.

Hermione's face was now buried in her hands, and she was sobbing freely; Ginny was wiping her eyes on her sleeve, and both Ron and Harry were staring determinedly up at the darkened sky above them, their own eyes obviously filled with tears.

Suddenly Ron snapped to attention once again. None of them protested, or so much as looked at him, when he suddenly ran toward the edge of the clearing.

"No," Snape said again. He was trying with all of his might to not let his body shake in agony, but it was no use. He had no strength left. He was shaking like a feeble old man. Hermione and Ginny both looked away in utter sadness when thick tears began to stream down his own cheeks.

Harry, however, could not look away. The sight of Snape's tears only caused his own to intensify. Here was a man who he had once thought to be an inhuman monster, a cold-blooded murderer with a heart of stone; yet here he knelt, weeping openly over the lifeless body of the young girl whom he had grown to love.

Snape gritted his teeth in desperation. There must be something he could do for her. There had to be something. Anything. Perhaps if he saw the extent of her injuries, an idea would come to him. Tenderly, gingerly, using all of the strength he had left in his body, he turned Sarah over onto her back. He let her fall limply onto the grass once again when Harry, Hermione, and Ginny all gasped at what they saw.

When she had lost control, they had seen her body ablaze, the strange markings on her arms, and the newly formed ones on her face, glowing quite brightly, along with the strange brand on her wrist. Now, however, she appeared quite normal. The skin on her face and forearms were smooth and unmarred, bearing no traces of the strange, glowing stripes. Snape grasped her right arm and brought her wrist under his eyes; the brand had vanished. It was simply gone. Gently, he set her arm to rest beside her body.

Then, Ginny dared ask the question that was present at the forefront of all of their minds…

"Is she— is she alive?" she asked shakily. Her question was followed by a large gulp and a loud sob.

Snape stared down at the girl's limp body. He had been dreading this moment. He had not yet checked for a pulse, or checked to see if she was breathing. He could wait no longer. Whatever the answer was, he had to know.

Slowly, his right hand reached out for the girl's neck…

* * *

Meanwhile, on the very edge of the clearing, Pius Thicknesse had regained consciousness. When he opened his eyes, he was astounded at the fact that he was still alive. He had never seen such raw power. The last thing he remembered feeling was a blazingly hot blast which seared his back, and a deafening bang. Now, however, everything around him was silent. He was lying on his stomach. He dared not make any sudden movements or he knew he would surely be spotted. He knew the fight must be over, or else he would be hearing the continued chaos. The fight must have ended one way or another. Now, his primary goal must be to escape.

His eyes widened greedily when they came to rest on his wand. It had been disarmed from him, and was now lying only mere yards away. His mouth twisted into a wicked grin, and he began slowly belly-crawling his way toward it, his right hand outstretched.

"Gaaack!" he gulped in pain when a foot came stomping down upon his outstretched wrist, crushing it into the dirt. When he looked up, there was a tall, red-haired man staring down at him, a grimace of hatred painted across his face. His wand was pointed directly between his eyes.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you, mate," the red-haired man growled lowly.

Thicknesse did not dare to move again.

* * *

Snape's fingertips reached Sarah's neck and pressed down firmly. His expression was inscrutable as he searched for a pulse. Several seconds passed, and his own heart nearly stopped in the process. He did not let up the pressure.

When nothing happened, Hermione began to sob again. Harry looked directly upward, and he felt Ginny latch onto his arm.

Snape, however, would not give up. He continued to stare down into the girl's face intently, his fingers pressing firmly into her neck, searching for a trace of life.

_Please, please, please_, he found himself chanting within his head. _Please, please, please…_.

Aside from the strange new sensation stirring inside his chest, he also felt his heart wrenching in agony when no pulse presented itself to his fingertips. He shut his eyes tight when he felt hot, shameful tears welling up within them once again.

_Please, I'll give anything…_

He found himself praying wildly to whatever spirit or deity would listen.

_Please, let her live…_

He did not let up the pressure on her neck, even though every moment that passed dampened his hopes infinitely. He knew at that moment that he would gladly give his heart, his soul, his very being, to bring this girl back to life again, just as she had given her own soul for him…

Suddenly, without warning, Sarah's entire body spasmed; all eyes were once again on her. Snape, whose fingers were still pressed firmly into her neck, leaned forward even closer.

Then, faintly, beneath the sensitive nerves of his fingertips, he felt the girl's heart stir softly, pumping a small amount of blood which he felt through the artery in her neck. At the same time, she also gave a small, visible intake of breath.

"She lives!" Snape exclaimed, though the tears did not stop flowing from his eyes at the miracle.

Hermione had stopped sobbing and stared at Sarah in disbelief, and Ginny's grip on Harry's arm had slackened. Harry, however, had no time to rejoice in the news when he saw Pius Thicknesse marching toward him. He sprang into readiness, his wand in his hand, pointing directly at the man's chest. It took him several moments to relax when he saw that Thicknesse's hands were raised skyward in a pose of surrender, and that he was not holding a wand. Ron was walking directly behind him, his wand pointed squarely into the man's back.

"Good," Harry spat, lowering his wand slightly, but keeping it pointed at Thicknesse all the same. "We'll need someone to testify to the Wizengamot about what happened."

Thicknesse did not speak.

"Quickly," Snape said, concerned only for the girl's well-being. "We must get her back to the castle."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all glanced at one another. Sarah was unconscious, and Snape could not yet walk under his own power. It would take more muscle than all of them currently possessed to transport them all safely back to the castle, all the while keeping Thicknesse under guarded escort.

"Ginny," Ron spoke up, his voice forceful, taking charge, "Come with me. Wand out. We are going to take this scumbag to the dungeons."

Nodding vigorously, his little sister jumped to her feet and, despite her injuries, whipped out her wand and trained it on Thicknesse, taking point beside him.

"Hermione," Ron continued, "You stay here with Sarah and Snape. We don't know what else might be lurking in this place. All right?"

Without speaking, Hermione nodded to her boyfriend and took out her own wand once again. She remained sitting beside Sarah and Snape, but made it clear that she was now on sentry duty.

"Harry," Ron said finally, turning to his best mate, and looking him in the eye sincerely. "You run for help. It's going to take a few more hands to get these two back to the castle."

Harry nodded once and lit his wand. Without delay, he turned toward the edge of the clearing from which they had emerged earlier and dashed into the deep woods with all the speed he could muster. The claw marks on his chest throbbed with every step, but he did not care. If Sarah was indeed alive, he was filled with the overwhelming desire to get her safely back into the confines of the castle. If he could just do that, he somehow felt that she would be alright.

His lungs burned. He ran faster and harder than he had ever run in his life.

Some time later, when he finally emerged from the forest, he doubled over briefly. After a few quick pants, he resumed his run, but soon slowed to a trot and then stopped completely. The centaur Firenze, as if waiting for Harry's emergence from the trees, was standing on the castle's snowy lawn.

"Firenze," Harry panted, his breath coming out in great puffs of steam against the cold night air, "I need your help." Harry continued to pant, looking up into the centaur's clear, blue eyes which seemed to glow slightly in the starlight.

The centaur smiled faintly.

"I know," he said simply, his tone somewhat casual. He did not seem concerned at all. He then glanced skyward. Harry could not help but direct his own gaze upward as well. The night, it seemed, had become incredibly bright and clear. Harry thought that he had never seen so many stars in his life.

"Well?" the centaur asked, looking back down at the boy before him.

Harry, momentarily distracted by the sheer beauty of the night sky, snapped back into reality. Somewhere, deep in the forest, Hermione was waiting with Sarah and Snape. Ginny and Ron would be making their way toward the castle this very moment, keeping Pius Thicknesse under armed escort.

"It worked?" the centaur asked, gazing down at Harry with interest.

Harry, momentarily stymied, did not immediately respond. He only gazed up at the centaur, panting heavily.

"What?" Harry spat out confusedly.

The centaur gave another faint smile and then turned his gaze skyward once more.

"The stars tell me many things," he began. "A few moons ago, I witnessed two brightly-shining stars dancing closely together. After some time, however, one of the stars was suddenly extinguished. The other star, in its lament, grew quite large, and to my surprise, rent itself in twain. It replaced its companion with half of itself. I had never before seen a star behave in such a way." He stopped speaking and pointed up. "There," Firenze said, "Happily together once more."

Harry craned his neck in an effort to see what the centaur was speaking about, but to his untrained eyes, the millions of glittering stars were indistinguishable from one another.

Harry then blinked, trying to make sense of the centaur's tale. He gasped suddenly as awareness dawned on him.

"I'm not sure," Harry said, straightening up. He was finally starting to catch his breath. "Sarah hasn't woken up yet. Snape seems fine."

"Well," Firenze said, looking back down at the green-eyed boy before him. "Let us go fetch her then, shall we?"

* * *

Several hours later, the hospital wing was extremely dark. It was that strange, early-morning quiet time in between the dark of night and the first light of the dawn. Pius Thicknesse had already been thoroughly bound and chained, and locked inside the school's ancient dungeon. All parties had agreed, however, not to contact the authorities until Sarah could be moved back into the safety of the Room of Requirement.

The hospital wing, by usual standards, was quite full. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron, all having suffered some scuffs or another, had each been forced into a separate bed by an unbelievably irate Madam Pomfrey. Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were still at rest, but Harry, of course, had long ago left his, much to Madam Pomfrey's chagrin, and had come to sit in a chair beside the bed where Sarah lay. His chest had already been thoroughly dabbed with the foul-smelling ointment. It had stung terribly. He had also dragged a second chair over to Sarah's bedside, but it currently sat empty.

Snape, who had also initially been forced into a bed by Madam Pomfrey, was pacing back and forth restlessly at the foot of Sarah's bed. He had very quickly regained his strength. Madam Pomfrey had given into his assertions that he was just fine following several cursory examinations in which she had indeed failed to find anything outwardly wrong with him. After consenting to imbibe a pepper-up potion as well as a blood replenishing potion (Madam Pomfrey, too, it seemed, was under the impression that Snape looked abnormally pale), he had begun his pacing.

Harry did not speak. He sat quietly and enjoyed the newfound silence. Just a short while ago, the hospital wing had been completely full of commotion. Madam Pomfrey had been positively irate when Snape demanded that all of their blood be tested for Porphyric Hemophilia. Snape did not deign to answer her many loud inquiries, or her threats to summon the headmistress. Snape helped the witch swiftly prepare the potion required for the test. When all of their blood had tested negative, including a sample taken from the unconscious Sarah, Madam Pomfrey had disappeared into her private quarters in a huff.

Now, Harry could not help but notice the way Snape was nervously clutching at his chest as he paced back and forth in front of Sarah's bed.

Snape no longer noticed that he was performing this manic activity. The fact that he was pacing back and forth rapidly and clutching at his chest like a man suffering from cardiac arrest was completely unknown to him. Aside from the regular glance toward the unconscious girl, he knew nothing outside of his own racing thoughts, and this odd new feeling inside him.

_Could it really be true?_ he asked himself, clutching at his chest once more. Inside it, somewhere near his heart, there was a presence, the sensation of something alien yet familiar, fluttering frantically inside him like a caged bird. _Did Granger really know what she saw? Could the girl have split her soul?_ He barely noticed the way in which the fluttering presence would stir even more wildly each time he glanced at the girl lying unconscious in her bed. Could it be? If it were, then it would mean that the new presence residing within him, endowing him with the very spark of life, was no longer his own soul, but half of Sarah's…

Snape didn't even pretend to be able to fathom the consequences of such a reality.

Even so, he had no patience with which to ponder it. Now, he was only concerned with the question that was weighing heavily on all of them. Sarah was alive; but would she awaken?

He also thought of his Patronus, and how it had changed. He did not have to imagine why.

Snape stopped in his pacing abruptly when he heard faint whispering. Up until now, the hospital wing had been mostly silent. As far as he knew, Granger and the Weasley children were currently asleep from exhaustion. It wouldn't have surprised him much if Madam Pomfrey had forced a sleeping draught down their protesting throats, either. Potter, despite his injuries and weariness, was steadfastly keeping vigil next to the girl's bedside. When Snape's eyes fell upon him, he saw that Harry had been the one who spoke. He was leaning in close to the girl, whispering softly. Snape strode over immediately. Harry looked up, alarmed.

"What are you doing, Potter?" Snape asked at a whisper.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry replied, trying his best to sound sincerely apologetic. Perhaps Snape thought that he had been interrupting Sarah's rest. The last thing he wanted to do at the moment was to strike up a row with this man. "I was talking to her. I thought that -," he paused briefly, searching for the right words. "I just thought that if she heard a familiar voice… it might help her find her way back."

Snape did not reply. He only looked down at Sarah's unconscious form sadly.

"Now sit down," Harry whispered, "You're making me nervous with all that pacing and twitching. It's not going to help anything."

Snape straightened up momentarily, slightly affronted, but quickly gave a resigned sigh. He was normally not one for taking orders from Potter, but he had to admit that the boy was right. He took a seat in the second chair next to the girl's bedside. Snape could not help himself as he began to wring his hands together.

Several moments of silence passed before either of them spoke again.

"Maybe you should try it, sir," Harry suggested.

"Try what?"

"Talking to her. Maybe if she hears you, she'll come back."

Snape regarded Harry, his expression almost unreadable. He then took a deep breath. At this point, it was worth trying anything. All he wanted was for the girl to wake up again.

"Very well," Snape whispered back. He stood, sliding his chair even closer to the bed.

Then, he leaned in close to her. The slight feeling of awkwardness that he felt about talking to the girl in such a way while being observed by Potter quickly faded when he took in the girl's sweet scent, and realized that he would be lost if he were never able to feel her touch again, or see her smile, or hear her laugh. He sighed. As far as he was concerned, he was alone with her.

"I don't know if you can hear me, Sarah," he began, his voice slightly louder than a whisper but still quiet enough not to disturb Ron, Hermione or Ginny. Taking another deep breath, he spoke again. "Please wake up. I love you, I -," he hesitated slightly before voicing his revelation for the first time, "_I need you_."

Full of hope, he remained close to her for a few minutes, but when she did not stir, he straightened up again in his chair. When he remembered that he was seated closely next to Potter, he felt suddenly vulnerable. It was an extremely uncomfortable feeling when mixed together with the strange fluttering presence inside his chest.

Snape gave another sigh, relaxing in his chair. His eyes were glued on the girl's unconscious form. Lazily, his gaze drifted to her left hand lying limp beside her body. There, the small silvery snake was visible, curled comfortably around her ring finger, its shining emerald eyes glinting dully in the dim light of the hospital wing. Without thinking, he reached out and grasped her hand with his own, as if to hold it tightly.

What happened next nearly caused Harry to jump out of his chair.

Snape suddenly felt an intense jolt when he joined hands with Sarah. He straightened up violently in his chair, his entire body rigid. The strange presence in his chest thrummed intensely, sending waves of what felt like mild electrical energy pulsing through his body. With much effort, he unclasped his hand from the girl's, trembling slightly as he fell back in his chair, crossing his arms tightly over his chest in a vain attempt to calm the fluttering soul and keep it from bursting out of him.

An instant later, Sarah's relaxed body became rigid as well. Her back arched up off of her bed. Snape, his extreme discomfort forgotten, sprang to his feet, and Harry could not help but do the same. When her body relaxed once more, she stirred slightly and gave a soft whimper.

"Sarah?" Snape asked softly, full of fear. She was awake now, but there was no guarantee that Dumbledore's prediction had not come to pass. There was no guarantee that her mind had not been broken…

"Severus?" the girl asked in return, but she did not open her eyes.

Snape then breathed perhaps the largest sigh of relief that he had ever before breathed in his life; he could not help himself when he leaned over the girl's bed in order to embrace her tightly. When they were close, he could once again feel the fluttering within his chest intensify. He hid his face in the dip of her neck in order to kiss it, but mostly in order to hide his tears from Potter. When he straightened up again, be swiftly wiped his eyes across his robe's sleeve. Harry watched the display, smiling.

"I saw it," Sarah whispered meekly.

Snape looked down at her, expecting to see her looking up at him, smiling. Instead, she had not yet opened her eyes.

"Saw what?" Snape asked. When the girl did not reply, he looked to Harry, who was staring down at Sarah. The boy looked sincerely contemplative.

Harry had a good idea of what Sarah might be talking about. He had spent a short amount of time there himself, after all. That fact was something that had never really discussed with anyone at length, or dared to think much about. He knew very well where he had been.

"What did it look like for you?" Harry asked softly. If she had indeed been there, she would understand his meaning.

Snape looked between them, perplexed.

"A gate," Sarah whispered. "It was a gate."

Harry nodded slowly and understandingly. Perhaps, at first, it presented itself to everyone differently. He did not trouble himself with pondering it any further. He would not even try to understand or unravel the mysteries of the next world.

"I saw him," Sarah spoke up again, and her voice sounded louder and more heartened, though her eyes remained closed. A small smile spread across her lips. "I saw Dumbledore."

"Did you?" Harry asked, unable to stifle a delighted snort of laughter. _Is there anything that man __**can't**__ do, even in death?_ Harry thought jovially to himself.

He then glanced over to Snape, who was looking thoroughly confused. Wordlessly, Harry attempted to convey to him that it would be best not to press the issue at the moment. Harry was quite confident that Sarah knew roughly where she had been. In time, no doubt, she would share her secret with him.

Snape gave a tiny nod, and then looked back to the girl. She took a very deep, slow breath.

"So tired," she whispered.

"Then sleep," Snape told her, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on her forehead. "Just promise me that you will wake up again."

The girl gave another smile.

"I promise," she breathed, and before she could take in another breath, she was asleep.

* * *

The next day brought a flurry of activity to the castle. After Sarah, with Madam Pomfrey's approval, was moved back into the safety of her room, Harry immediately sent an emergency owl straight to Kingsley Shacklebolt. It was difficult to measure just how thoroughly shocked the Minister was to be led down into the dungeons of Hogwarts by Harry Potter, only to find his Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement imprisoned there. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny (also with Pomfrey's approval), had accompanied Harry, and all of them corroborated the same story: Thicknesse along with five wanted criminals, a few of whom were supposed to have been dead or in Azkaban, had been plotting a Ministerial assassination and overthrow for months.

Harry did not have much choice but to confess that he, along with Sarah, had been responsible for breaking into the Ministry and Gringotts, as well as confessing Sarah's attack on the Ministry. Kingsley was initially conflicted about the appropriate action to take; he was, after all, Minister for Magic, and it was his sworn duty to uphold the laws. At Harry's behest, however, he consented to be led up to the Headmaster's tower where, after a long conversation with a certain Headmaster's portrait, he agreed to make it public that Thicknesse and his cohorts had been responsible for the infractions. This was, as Harry realized, the truth, of a sort. Thicknesse had ultimately been responsible for the plotting that caused them to take such actions in the first place.

Harry also could not stop himself from asking Kingsley if he had known anything about the role that the Ministry had played in Sarah's past. Kingsley assured him that he hadn't the faintest idea before that moment. If other Ministers had known of it, it must have been a tightly-kept secret suitable for the Department of Mysteries. That was, after all, where a certain Death Eater had found out about it.

Following this, Thicknesse was immediately placed in the Ministry's custody and was escorted from the premises.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all standing in the castle's entrance hall as the Minister and his entourage, as well as a well-shackled Thicknesse, left. Harry felt a great wave of relief wash over him when they disappeared from sight down the castle's snowy lawns.

"Do you reckon Madam Pomfrey will hunt us down if we don't go back?" Ron asked loudly. His voice echoed off the bare stone walls.

Ginny snorted.

"Shh, you're going to make it really easy for her to find us," she said.

Harry could not help but crack a smile. All of them began to laugh; it was the same sort of mirthful laughter that frequently infected them at seemingly random moments following Voldemort's downfall. The immense feeling of euphoria that followed danger's climactic end was always somewhat similar to a drug.

"Come on," Harry said at last, a smile still playing on his face, and struggling to stifle his laughter, "Let's go back to the common room."

"What about Sarah?" Hermione asked.

"We'll go see her later," Harry replied as they all began to slowly make their way in the direction of the common room. "I reckon she needs some time alone with Snape."

None of them spoke again as they made their way up through the castle's corridors. Each of them was silently pondering the immense ramifications and consequences that sharing a soul could mean for Sarah and Snape. They both appeared to be just fine, however, and this was the thought that comforted them as they neared the Gryffindor common room, and the warm, welcoming fire that awaited them there.

* * *

It was past midday, and Sarah was still asleep. Snape was yet again seated at her bedside, but in the much more comfortable atmosphere of the girl's own room. He watched over her tirelessly. As each hour passed, however, he was becoming more and more concerned that something was wrong; the girl had promised him that she would wake up again, but she had already been asleep for an inordinate amount of time. With effort, he managed to push these thoughts out of his head. Perhaps splitting one's soul was a momentously exhausting effort.

As he relaxed in the comfortable chair he had dragged to her bedside, he was still absently groping at his chest. The thing inside it, however, seemed to be calming down, as if it were growing more and more comfortable there. Thankfully, he did not have to wait much longer before the girl finally began to awaken.

When Sarah's eyes opened, Snape could not help the wide smile which spread across his lips when he saw that they were brown.

"Good morning," he told her, drinking her in.

With a yawn, Sarah brought herself to sit up in bed. She was blinking rapidly and began to rub her eyes. When she looked around at Snape and realized that she was in her own room, she looked somewhat perplexed, as if she could not believe it. As far as she could tell, there was no pain in her body. She seemed, dare she think it, _just fine_.

"I'm alive, then?" she asked Snape, who was still grinning quite broadly as he gazed into her deep, brown eyes, "I'm alright?"

"Better than alright, I believe," Snape replied, his grin transforming into more of a pleased smirk, "Take a look at yourself," he finished, eyeing her over.

Sarah continued to look perplexed for a moment, unsure of what Snape meant. Then, she followed his eyes down to her arms.

Her eyes widened suddenly. The red streaks had vanished. Turning her right arm over to expose her wrist, she saw that the strange mark had vanished as well. She quickly looked back up at Snape, her expression a mixture of thrill, surprise, and elation.

"My eyes," she said hurriedly, and she looked about ready to leap out of bed and dash over to her bathroom mirror, "What color are they?"

"Brown," Snape replied, and he could not help himself as his grin spread again, "And no, I did not apply a charm to them."

Sarah's face instantly became alight with a huge smile. Snape's grin transformed into a satisfied smirk again as he looked back at her. He looked confused, however, when the girl's expression of delight suddenly melted away.

"Severus," the girl said suddenly, and her voice sounded slightly hollow. She looked anguished, and terrified, "I'm afraid I might have done something terrible."

Snape looked back at her, tilting his head slightly as he attempted to understand what she might mean. After a moment, he spoke.

"No," he said sternly, and his gaze became hard and serious, "Do not feel guilt over those men. They were evil and deserved the fate which you gave them." Then, to his surprise, the girl shook her head back and forth rapidly.

"No, it's not that," she said, still looking terrified. She was afraid for many reasons. What if what Dumbledore had told her was indeed true? How would Severus react upon learning the truth? With haste, she threw her bedclothes off of herself and leapt to her feet, causing Snape to stand up along with her.

"We need to talk to Dumbledore," she said quickly, and rushed toward the door. After she flung it open, she began making her way to the Headmaster's tower at an outright run.

Snape trailed after her as quickly as he could, his black robes billowing so characteristically around him.

When Sarah reached the corridor that lead to the Headmaster's tower, she was surprised to find that the gargoyle, who normally guarded the door, was standing aside.

"They're expecting you," the creature grumbled, obviously quite displeased that it had been instructed to allow people to pass without providing the password.

Sarah, with Snape at her heels, rushed up the spiral staircase and did not bother knocking on Professor McGonagall's door. When both of them burst into the office, they found Professor McGonagall seated at her desk, looking in their direction expectantly. The portrait of the man with whom Sarah wished to speak was directly above her, smiling down at them.

"Well, come in, then," Professor McGonagall told them. She was looking slightly disheveled and harassed. Earlier in the day, Harry had failed to warm her of the Minister's emergency visit. While Kingsley had chatted with Dumbledore's portrait, Harry was forced to fill her in on all of the events that had transpired the previous night.

At McGonagall's behest, Sarah and Snape slowly made their way into the office, coming to stand before the huge desk, their necks craned upward.

"I know why you have come," Dumbledore announced as he gazed down at the girl, his half-moon spectacles perched halfway down his long, crooked nose.

"Well?" Sarah asked, still looking terrified. Her voice was shaking audibly. "Is it true, what I've done? Is it true, what you told me?"

Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

"It is true, just as surely as I see Severus standing before me," Dumbledore said, eyeing the tall, dark man with his piercing gaze, "The only possible explanation for which is that you split your soul in half, and successfully imparted half of it to him. You successfully fused your soul into his very being. I was overjoyed to learn that you found your way back to your body, by the way," he twinkled, but his smile faded when he saw how stricken the girl looked.

Snape looked stricken as well upon learning that it was indeed true. The reason that he still held the spark of life was due to half of Sarah's soul residing within him.

Sarah looked as if she were about to be sick. After all, from what Harry had told her, she remembered well the horrific damage that soul-splitting had inflicted upon Tom Riddle, and the terrifying consequences that such an act held.

"I've done it, then," she whimpered. Tears were beginning to well up in her eyes. She did not dare look at Snape, for fear of his reaction. "I've irrevocably damaged both of us."

"I do not believe that to be true," Dumbledore cautioned her. He was wearing a faint smile. He knew exactly what the girl must have been thinking.

"But I've—I've-," she stammered, having a difficult time actually bringing herself to say it, "I created a Horcrux, and it's-," she fell silent, terrified to acknowledge the truth.

Dumbledore chuckled. Both Sarah and Snape looked upward instantly. Snape's hands were balled into fists. He no doubt found the man's nonchalant reaction to their situation infuriating.

"In a manner of speaking, yes, but also, no," Dumbledore said.

Sarah and Snape remained silent, waiting for the old man to explain himself.

"You forget what a Horcrux is, my dear girl, and what a Horcrux _means_," Dumbledore began. "A Horcrux is created purely out of greed and selfishness by someone who is willing to end the lives of others in order to insure the extension of their own. It is something born of evil, and no good can come of it. Performing such a heinous action, such a sin against the order of nature, corrupts the body as well as the soul. You, however, performed no such action."

"But, those men," Sarah interjected, blinking back tears and looking away from Dumbledore, "I-, I-,"

"You did not kill in cold blood. Killing, in either instance, is not something to be taken lightly, and it certainly leaves a mark upon a person either way. There is, however, an important difference," Dumbledore said.

Sarah looked back up at him.

"Your actions were born of love," he said, "You acted to protect your friends, who were in mortal peril. When you saw the man you love struck down, you acted for him, and him alone. Correct me if I am wrong, but at the exact moment that you split your soul and attempted to restore his life to him, you no longer cared about whether or not your own continued."

Sarah remained silent, and a few tears streamed down her cheeks. It was true. All she had wanted at that moment was to bring Severus back, even if she lost herself in the process. She briefly glanced at Snape in an effort to wordlessly communicate that this was indeed the truth. In response, he moved closer to her and took her hand in his own.

As he did, he felt the presence inside him stir happily, filling him with a strange, comforting warmth. Little did he know that the girl felt the exact sensation. Both of them were momentarily distracted when Professor McGonagall, still seated at her desk, gave a sniff and a soft sob. She was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

"You did not create a Horcrux, Sarah," Dumbledore continued, "You created an unbreakable bond of love."

"We can each live like this?" Snape asked, "With only half a soul?"

Dumbledore chuckled again.

"You don't have half a soul," the old man said, smiling, "You have a whole one. You just happen to share it with this girl."

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly, and he smirked. Dumbledore sure did have a knack of never completely answering his questions. As he squeezed the girl's hand tightly in his own, however, he had the unshakeable feeling, somewhere deep inside him, that everything was indeed going to be alright.

"But what about the other thing you told me," Sarah pressed, "Is it true that we-, we can't-,"

Dumbledore's expression of joviality faded slightly as he gave another solemn nod. This particular consequence of their situation was, after all, a serious one.

"That is, I believe, true," he affirmed. "One of the consequences of your actions is that, while one of you is alive, the other cannot die. You will recall a similar situation in recent history with your good friend Mr. Potter. This time, however, it seems to be more of a blessing than a curse."

Both Sarah and Snape remained silent for several moments, letting the gravity of the truth sink in. Standing there together, hand-in-hand, they felt no fear.

"And the other consequences, Dumbledore?" Snape asked after the silence.

"Of that, Severus, I do not know," Dumbledore replied honestly. His tone was deep, but the bright smile had returned to his face as he regarded them both together. His bright blue eyes sparkled. "There is no precedent for this in the known history of magic," he said, "The two of you will just have to explore the consequences together."

When Dumbledore had finished speaking, Sarah and Snape turned to one another. Snape took her other hand, clasping both of them in his own. His deep, black eyes were fixed on her brown ones. He doubted that he would ever be able to look at her enough. He might, in fact, be relieved to have an eternity in which to do so. The girl smiled back up at him.

"I think we can handle that journey, after what we have just been through," Snape said, and for what must have been the umpteenth time that day, he could not help but grin.

* * *

_**THE END**_

__


End file.
